


Defy Any and All Expectation

by Tenoko1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean, BAMF Sam, F/M, Ghosts, Happy Ending, M/M, Men of Letters, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 10-15 Hours, Romance, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Temporary Character Death - Winchesters, Wendigo, Zombies, alternate season 6, case!fic, curse related temporary genderswap, do not make deals with or piss off gods with a dubious sense of humor, fanart available, river witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 137,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck's newly released books tell of another war between Heaven and Hell. Team Free Will sets out to try to defy prophecy, only to realize there is a lot more at stake and amiss than the not-quite-accurate words of one Prophet of the Lord.</p><p>Along the way, Dean and Cas' relationship continues to evolve into something neither expected or were prepared for, all of their lives transforming in ways no one could have expected.</p><p>But with no shortage of cases, monsters, and mayhem, it's going to require the help of new friends and old enemies if they're to have a hope of saving the world one more time.</p><p>Alternate Season Six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Takes place after season Five with mentions of the events and characters through Season Eight.
> 
> AN: There will be a temporary genderswap of one of the character for **plot relevant reasons** for a portion of the story, that has nothing to do with or any effect on the romance of the story. Don't worry, they remain completely and utterly in character and many people say they even forget about the change because the characters act just as they normally would.
> 
>    
>  _ **Because there is so much fanart for this fic, you can find it on my blog instead of on the work. Reminder that all fanart probably contains spoilers.**_  
>  There is a tag for this fic's fanart on my tumblr, either go to my Tags page as 'DAAAE fanart', or [here](http://tenoko1.tumblr.com/tagged/daaae-fanart)
> 
> There is also a podfic version. It's 14 hrs long and can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1535981).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>   
>   
> 

            The shopping basket was so laden down with books, Dean was forced to carry it in his arms up to the front of the store. The plethora of books was stacked higher than the green lip of the basket, causing volumes to slide and rest against Dean’s chest as he carried them.

            It was quite possible he’d gone mad.

            He was nearly shaking with energy and impatience, like he’d over-caffeinated, except he’d only had one cup of coffee before Ben and Lisa had dragged him out for the day.

            He resolutely ignored the curious and surprised looks sent his way as he carted his load down the main aisle, eyes scanning for the shortest line before stepping behind a girl with too many belts and bottle-job raven hair.

            She turned curiously at his approach, bored expression shifting to one of surprise, eyes zeroing in on the complete collection of _Supernatural_ books he held. Then, her face went blank again and she turned around, taking a step as the line shuffled forward.

            Adjusting his grip, Dean scanned the café, eyes locking on the dark haired woman drinking coffee and already reading her new book. Meanwhile, Ben would probably be sprawled in a bean bag in the kid’s section with a stack of a books.

            “Psst. Lisa,” he called. Her brows rose, head lifting to signal she’d heard him, but her eyes never left the page. Stupid book club. “Lisa,” he tried again.

            This time she did look up, sliding part of the book jacket between the pages to hold her place. When she saw him, she did a double-take, eyes going comically wide.

            In his moment of distraction, one of the books slid off the stack in his arms, hitting the ground with a thump, and making him wince at the abuse. The girl in line ahead of him knelt to pick it up and was placing it back on top as Lisa hurriedly gathered her things and scurried over to him.

            “Thanks,” he told the raven-haired female.

            She nodded and smiled politely. “Big fan?”

            “They’re life ruiners," he replied sardonically.

            Chuckling, she said, "I'll have to check them out then," and turned back to the front just as he rolled his eyes and Lisa made it to his side, brown eyes flicking over the books and then around the store.

            “Dean? What’s going on?” she questioned, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

            “I’m going to kill a Prophet of the Lord,” he informed her. She looked at him sharply. He nodded to the books. “The guy making money off my life is back in business.”

            She frowned down at the books as they shuffled forward again. “I don’t understand.”

            He glared at the books in his arms, then back down the main aisle. “Apparently Chuck went and got himself a new publishing contract.”

            She glanced around, worriedly. "And for that you're threatening to kill him?"

            “Sam and I _warned_ him-“ he hissed at her.

            She raised a hand, placating. “Okay, okay, totally understand you not wanting them in print, but why are you buying them?”

            He blinked, regarding her. “It’s my life, Lisa. Mine and Sam’s. I, first and foremost, have rights to them.”

            She bit her full bottom lip between her teeth, glancing around cautiously, before back at him, her voice lowered. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea, Dean? Won't reading them make things hurt worse? It's only been a couple of months...”

            She looked so scared for him, making him shake his head lightly. “Lis. This isn’t some masochistic wallowing in self-pity. I may never read most of them, but I will own them, especially considering…”

            Her brown eyes watched him curiously, head angling to the side as he trailed off. “Considering what?”

            Dean wasn’t sure how to tell her that there were books in the series that took place after _Swan Song_ , the book that followed the events that day in Stull Cemetery when Sam had dragged Lucifer and Michael down into the Cage. There were books in the series about things that hadn’t happened yet, and from the synopsis on the back: none of it was good.

            The line shuffled forward, Dean placing his basket on the counter even as he looked at his girlfriend. “They’re mine, Lisa. I should own them.”

            “Sir?” the clerk began; Dean handed over their discount card without looking.

            “I just don’t think it’s healthy. You’ve come so far since you lost Sam. I’m worried is all.”

            “Uh, sir?”

            “Lis. I read all those books you gave me on grief, and even the Dale Carnegie one. Trust me, I’m not about to fall into some obsessive spiral of self-destruction.”

            “Sir?’ Dean’s fierce gaze snapped to the clerk, who timidly held up a book he hadn’t seen on the Supernatural display. She held it up between them almost like a shield. “Did you want the companion guide as well? It’s an In-Store exclusive.”

            Oh.

            He gave a curt nod. “Yeah. Add it to the rest.”

            Beside him, Lisa had her face in her hand.

 

To his credit, Dean did wait until that night to start reading. Waited until Lisa and Ben were in bed and he was as alone with his thoughts as he could be before he settled down with the first book that would tell him the things that hadn’t happened yet.

            He’d been tempted to start on an earlier book, to learn things they hadn’t at the time, like what with Bela having given the Colt to Crowley, but none of it seemed relevant now. Sam had been dead for three months, and according to the books due to make a reappearance in Dean’s life in about another nine, where everything promptly all went to Hell in a handbasket.

            Reading, Dean kept realizing his was shaking his head in disbelief, or had to put the book down and walk away, using it as an excuse to fix himself another cup of coffee as the late hours wore on. His hands was shaking so badly during one of these breaks, he nearly ended up pouring coffee all over his own hand.

            His plan to kill Chuck for publishing these books set to the side for the moment… Dean had no idea why the author hadn’t called him to warn him or something. Warn him that there was a future coming that was not peaceful like they had hoped, and that not only was Sam not dead, but his body was walking around without his soul _in_ it.

            How that even _worked_ , he had no idea, but things only got _worse_ from there, from Cas and the civil war in Heaven, to Dean and Lisa’s relationship going down in absolute flames, to Castiel and Crowley working together to extract the souls from Purgatory to use as a weapon, all the while, the angel never coming to Dean, of all people, for help.

            It made no sense.

            _It made no sense._

            And why wouldn’t Chuck come to him about these visions so that they could try to stop them from coming to pass? They had time! They could change the future and keep this from happening.

            And with things that bad, why hadn’t _Cas_ come to him sooner? Hell, if Cas was going to war, all he had to do was point out the dotted line and Sam and Dean were signed up as well. They would never let him fight alone. Did the angel think Dean wouldn’t take up another battle if Castiel needed him to? That maybe it would be asking too much?

            Did he think Dean couldn’t help?

            And Sam!

            He waited until Ben was at school and Lisa was at work for the day before he prayed. He locked the doors, shut the blinds and the curtains, and glanced once over his shoulder to make sure he was alone. Prayer was never something he got use to, even more so aloud. Prayers a man sent up in his head were one thing, but aloud, standing in the living room of your house? That was another.

            “Uh, dear Castiel. If you get a minute, I would like for you to come down here if, uh, if you wouldn't mind.” He frowned, remembering the huge wall between the two of them in the books. “Please.”

            The tell-tale rustle of feathers was enough to make Dean’s eyes prick behind his eye lids, his throat clenching together as so many different things rushed through him, mostly relief. Perhaps the events in the books could be averted with this one step here. They’d tried proving the books wrong before, but Dean would be damned if someone out there ever thought he’d stop trying to fight fate.

            “Hello, Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

            That voice sounded exactly the same. Hearing it for the first time after such a long absence made Dean suddenly realize just how much he had  _missed_  it. It was a bit softer than normal, the underlying tone clearly ‘I shouldn’t be here’, but even that filled Dean with an aching reassurance.

            He pivoted, eyes raking over the angel who was standing almost on the complete opposite side of the room. Cas was the first to break eye contact and glance down, almost sheepish. In that instant Dean knew that Cas  _wasn’t_  suppose to be there, was probably disobeying orders in answering Dean’s call and had come anyway.

            In two strides, Dean purposefully crossed the room, catching the look of surprise and uncertainty on the other man’s face just before Dean threw his arms around the angel’s neck and hugged him tightly.

            “You have no idea how  _good_  it is to see you, man,” admitted Dean gruffly, fingers curling into the material at his back.

            And God, it was. Three months of silence from anyone he’d known. Bobby’s absence had been understandable, but Castiel’s had been nearly unbearable.

            Tentative arms hugged him back. “As it is to see you.” At not being pushed away, Cas grew more assured and squeezed him tighter. “I did not anticipate a call from you.”

            Shaking his head, Dean pulled back, leaving his hands on Cas’ shoulders as he regarded him with a frown.

            “Where the hell have you been, man? We save the world together and then just ‘sayonara’?” Cas flinched like Dean had struck him and the hunter softened, shaking his head again. “I didn’t mean that as bad as it sounded.” Stepping away, he held up his hands. “I just… I guess I thought you’d pop in every once in while.”

            The angel cast his eyes downward. “I worried my presence might remind you of your loss. I did not wish to add to your grief, Dean.”

            “Is that why you haven’t come to me yet about the war? Or Sam?” he asked softly, lowering his head trying to catch the angel’s gaze.

            The other man’s head jerked up with a start, expression shocked, then confused, before going carefully neutral.

            “…what war?” Cas asked finally, as though carefully choosing his words.

            Moving over to the recliner that he had basically been camping out in for the past two days, Dean picked up one of the random volumes of Chuck’s books, tossing it to the angel. The other man caught it, long fingers holding it to his chest before turning it around to regard the cover.

            “The civil war in Heaven between you and Raphael,” he said, watching as Cas’ eyes widened. The angel flipped the book over to read the back and then began rapidly thumbing through the pages. Dean regarded him tiredly, feelings still stung that the person he considered himself closest to had not trusted him in return. “Why wouldn't you come to me, man? You know I’d help you.”

            Resigned, Cas let his arms drop to his sides, chin raised as they regarded each other. “Because the last thing I would want would be to deprive you of something that makes you happy and keeps you safe, Dean.”

            The blond shook his head. “And I’d rather have you. I’d rather be by your side, fighting the fight, than leave you to fight it alone so I can stick my head in the sand.”

            A warm smiled crossed over Cas’ face and it made something in Dean’s chest clench tightly, made him want to wrap his arms around the angel again and just hold on, feeling anchored and safe and like he were home again after being away for too long.

            Shoving his hands into his pockets instead, Dean coughed lightly, dropping his gaze to the rug beneath his feet. “So what do we do?”

            “Nothing.” He looked up sharply and found Cas smiling with what looked close to relief, before it flitted away and his expression shifted into the carefully crafted mask Dean was unused to seeing on him anymore. “Dean… there is no war in Heaven.”

            The hunter blinked and the moment stretched. “But, Cas…” he began, finally, before the words trailed off.

            Chuck had written it. Had seen it. Chuck _couldn’t_ write things that weren’t true, he ended up with mind-splitting migraines and blacking out, only to wake up having written on whatever stable surface he could find. He _could_ _not_ write false prophesy.

            So why was Cas still trying to hide the truth?

            The angel lifted to book, eyes studying it as he spoke, “You were right to be concerned, this book is quite troubling, and were it true prophecy, even more so, but Dean…” He looked at the hunter again, shaking his head. “There is no war in Heaven. Not with Raphael, not with anyone.” He waved the novel. “The books are wrong.”

            Huffing out a breath, Dean threw out his hands. “Then what’s going on? Something's  _gotta_ be going on upstairs. It may be in the starting stages.”

            “Dean, after Michael and Lucifer were locked away, my siblings did not have the time or the idea to start a war for power. My father came back.”

            That had Dean choking on air, eyes bulging out as his jaw threatened to come unhinged. “Do what?”

            The angel nodded gravely. “He returned, reprimanding those who sought to end humanity, and reminding us all of what our Primary Objective is, of how we are expected to behave.”

            Scoffing, Dean demanded, “Oh? And how’s that?”

            “We were meant to care for humanity, to protect it, naturally.”

            Rolling his eyes, Dean shifted and gave his friend a thumbs-up and a wink. “Oh yeah, bang up job on that, you guys. Good going.” Castiel shot him a flat look of annoyance, which Dean ignored and pointed at the books. “Well, if Dad came home and knocked so many heads together, what the hell’s going on with this?”

            Shaking his head, Castiel regarded the book sadly. “That I do not know.”

            Accepting that, Dean ran his tongue over his bottom lip before setting his jaw. “Okay. Well, Chuck’s wrong about that, then what about Sam?” Blue eyes flicked up to his. “In those books, he’s walking and talking, but completely in want of a soul. What about him?”

            Castiel sighed, eyes falling away and shoulders sagging. “I honestly can’t tell you anything, Dean. I’m sorry.”

            And wow, yeah, that was like a punch to the solar plexis. He’d thought- he’d _hoped_ \- what with Castiel’s help, they could…

            “Can we talk to God?” The angel blinked rapidly, taking in the sudden fierce expression on Dean’s face. “His freaking kids started this mess and my brother paid the price to clean it up, we lost _good_ people over Michael and Luci’s tiff, the least he can do-“

            “Is ensure it doesn’t happen again,” Castiel interjected, “which he _has_.”

            Dean crossed the room in two strides, hand landing on his friend’s shoulder. “Cas, if I could just talk to him, ask him about _Sam_ -“

            “He’s _gone_ , Dean,” the other man said, making Dean’s jaw clench shut, at first thinking the angel meant Sam. “He came and restored order, but then left again to finish work only He knows about. God is no longer in Heaven.” Cas shook his head. “And I fear we would stand no better chance of finding him than we did the last time.” He raised a hand, covering Dean’s with his own. “I am _sorry_ , Dean. ”

            Hand falling limp to the side, Dean nodded, suddenly feeling numb all over. He stepped away from Castiel, unable to meet his gaze.

            Slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat, Cas offered, “I will look into these discrepancies in Chuck’s prophecies and report back to you with my findings.” That made Dean jerk his head up in surprise, finding the other man watching him carefully. “He may be in need of healing or-“

            Dean held up a hand. “Whoa, you are not telling me to wait in the car on this one-“

            “Dean-“

            “No, Cas! Chuck owes me an explanation as much as you, more so since this is mine and Sam’s lives he makes his living off of.” He planted his hands on his hips, Cas sighing and rubbing at his eyes as Dean demanded, “Now, where do we start?”

 

            The most obvious option was to go see Chuck directly, Cas teleporting them to the prophet’s house and into his living room. The house offered little in the way of answers though.

            Castiel turned in a small circle, taking in the details of the home around them. “Dean?” he questioned, peering over his shoulder at the blond who was inspecting the prophet’s desk.

            Setting down a mug of something that had long since turned solid, Dean scratched at the back of his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. He’s not here. Hasn’t been here in a while for the looks of things.” He toed through all the mail in a pile by the door. “Dishes covered in mold, enough junk mail he could wallpaper the house in, and yet, books still being published.” He shook his head at a loss. “Where ever he is, it ain’t here.”

            Head angling slightly, Cas offered, “You knew him better than I: what now? Does he have family or friends that might could help us locate him?”

            Dean held up his hands. “You are barking up the wrong tree on that one. He kept tabs on me, not the other way around. Besides, if he did, you would think they would have already come to check on him. Now we add ‘missing’ to the list of things wrong with Chuck.” Pursing his lips, he considered. “We might as well try his agent. They have to have some way to contact him, some place they are sending his checks or something. She’s how Sam and I found him the first time.”

            The angel nodded, reaching out without a word to press two fingers to Dean’s temple, causing the earth to shift between one blink and the next, leaving them standing outside the unassuming agency.

            Even from outside on the sidewalk, they could still hear the woman inside making a scene, causing the two men to glance at one another, Dean arching a brow before steeling himself and reaching for the door.

            “Here we go,” he muttered.

            Cas grabbed the door as they entered. “Would it not be better to wait to ask questions another time, Dean? There is great hostility in there.”

            The blond rolled his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Cas,” he assured the angel, even as the woman continued to make a scene. “She turns violent, just use your Vulcan Nerve Pinch on her and be done with it.”

            At that, Cas sighed and shook his head, the woman’s words getting clearer as they approached.

            “I don’t care what the law says about confidential information,” the blonde at the desk raged. “He doesn’t _have_ a next of kin! I am the closest thing he has, so you better damn well tell me where he is or so help me  _God_  I will unleash the wrath of the  _entire internet_  on you and this company.”

            Dean pulled up short. “Becky?!”

            Her head snapped sharply at the sound of his voice, for a split second all that fury directed at the two men standing by the door, making them shrink back an involuntary step. Recognition dawned then and her entire demeanor shifted, face lighting up as a loud gasp of surprise escaped her.

             “Dean!”

            The older woman at the desk didn’t even bother to see who the newcomers were, just picked up the phone and dialed. “Roger? She’s back again. Can you-“

           Dean threw out a hand to stop her, just as the blond pivoted on her heel to glare, hands curling into fists by her sides. “No! Don’t call anybody!” he insisted, grabbing Becky before she could march back over. The woman gave him a flat stare, phone still to her ear and lips pursed. Dean offered her a weak smile. “Sorry, she’s, uh, we’ll handle her, I promise.” When Becky glanced at him over her shoulder, he glared. Unhappily, she jerked away and folded her arms with a huff.

           There was a long moment of silence before the woman spoke into the phone again. “Roger, just be on stand-by, okay?”

            The hunter returned his attention to the blonde. “Becky, what are _you_ doing here?” he questioned.

            She rolled her eyes. “Looking for Chuck, obviously, though fat lot of good it’s done me.” Her green eyes settled curiously on the man in the trench coat, brows drawing together as she took him in head-to-toe and back again. She did such a sharp inhalation of breath, Dean wondered how she didn’t swallow her own tongue. “You must be Castiel!” she realized, eyes darting between them and one hand already extending out toward the angel before Dean caught it midair.

            The angel eyed her suspiciously while Dean heaved a sigh, casting his gaze toward the ceiling for patience. “Cas, meet Chuck’s biggest fan: Becky Rosen,” he introduced. “Becky, meet Castiel.”

            She had that same starry-eyed expression of wonderment on her face from the first time she’d met Sam, pulling unsuccessfully at Dean’s grip on her wrists trying to break free. “Oh my,” she said, breathily. “It’s a _pleasure_ to meet you, really. I’m a _huge_ fan, have been since the start of _Lazarus Rising_ and the barn scene.”

            He inclined his head to her. “You said you were looking for Chuck as well? For how long? Have you found anything useful?”

            “Cops know me by name at this point,” she admitted with an eye roll, “but I haven’t learned anything helpful. They won’t tell me anything at all. Apparently being his ex-girlfriend doesn’t entitle me to basic information like: is he safe? When did you last hear from him? Who in _God’s name_ is writing these books now?” she’d whirled back around and was demanding this of the receptionist, arms locked by her sides and hands clenched into tiny fists.

            Dean threw himself between the blonde and receptionist, trying to hide her from view as the older woman reached once more for the phone to call Roger.

            “Wait, I’m sorry, please don’t-“ he tried, just as one of the offices opened and a woman in a short bob came out looking annoyed.

            “Mary, do we have a situation out here?” she questioned cooly, and Dean heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of her.

            “Sera?” She looked over at the sound of her name. “Sera Seige?”

 

 

            Several hours later, Dean wasn’t sure if his relief hadn’t been premature.

            “How in God’s name is this my life?” he demanded. This earned him a cross look from Castiel as they sat together in the diner booth.

           The blonde across from them was happily eating her French fries and ranch dipping sauce. “Dean, you’ve lived your life. You know it could be worse.”

           “Worse? Worse than a missing Prophet of the Lord who watches every day of my life and publishes it as a fiction series? Worse than the fact that they hired freelance writers to continue writing the books after Chuck went missing?”

           “Terrible writers, too,” agreed Becky.

            “So everything terrible I thought was about to happen isn’t,” Dean continued. “The freelance writers were just going off what little Chuck had discussed with Sera from his notes or whatever before he disappeared. So my past few days of freaking out have been for _nothing_.”

            “That’s generally considered a good thing.”

            “Years off my life, Cas.” The angel bobbed his head, conceding the point as Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to will his life into something more normal.

            Across the table, Becky flippantly waved a French fry in the air. “Look at it this way: since you convinced Sera to contract me as the new writer, you and Sam won’t lose anymore face with the fans and I can set about trying to repair the damage the freelance writers did. At least it’s just the one arc. This could have gone on a lot longer and been a lot worse.”

            He gave her a flat look. “Cas just declared himself the new God.”

            “I’ll fix that like _that_ ,” she said, snapping her fingers. “I’ll wake you up from a coma or something. Everything after _Swan Song_ will have been a bad dream.”

            “Fine. Whatever. Get over to Chuck’s and see if you can’t find anything useful in his notes. Any clues he might have hidden.”

            She nodded. “Okay. What about the new books? What do I do for plot?”

            He rubbed a hand over his face again. “I am really not sure this was such a great idea, after all.”

            “I’ll have you know my writing has really improved, Dean,” Becky stated, scowling lightly. “I studied some books and even took a course. My fanbase has really grown. I’ll do a good job.” Eventually, when Dean nodded, she gave a sharp nod in return. “What about the books? What do you want me to write? Do I make something up or do you want to keep me updated and I write the story that way, continuing Chuck’s work?”

           Dean opened his mouth to tell her to make something up, to write anything but the truth that was his life, because he was really sick of just having all of that out there. He faltered, glancing at the angel next to him in the booth.

           “Cas? What do you think? There was _some_ point to making him write the books, wasn’t there?”

           The angel nodded. “They are educational. I have been told that a day will come when humans will be spread across the stars and the knowledge and legends of the supernatural lost, leaving humanity defenseless in their ignorance. Your books, your legacy, will be what saves humanity, giving birth to a new generation of hunters.”

           The hunter scowled. “No pressure, then.”

           Cas gave him a side-glance. “Just do what you do, Dean. The rest will take care of itself.”

           They shared a smile before Dean remembered the woman sitting across from them and looked over at her, only to find her sitting at rapt attention, pen and notepad she’d retrieved from her purse in hand, her fingers moving quickly as she scribbled.

           “What are you doing?” he asked.

           “Writing that dialogue exchange down to go in the book,” she stated simply. “Short hand, for now. I’ll write it out later.” She finished and looked at them expectantly, hand poised to continue writing.

           Dean wiped a hand over his face and waved at the waitress for their ticket. They’d come here just for a public place to talk to Becky in, and though he’d called Lisa to let her know they were gonna be after dinner time getting back, Dean had been gone longer than he expected, the sun already set while they talked.

            “Fine, Becky. Whatever. I guess write about us searching for Chuck. You are not- under any circumstance- allowed to so much as _hint_ at Wincest or whatever, though, are we clear?”

            She scoffed and waved a hand. “Oh please, that ship went down like the _Titanic_ for me back before you were even in your own body again. I’d never pair you with _him_ anymore.”

            Castiel was frowning. “I am rather disturbed that people apparently thought you and Sam were in a romantic relationship.” He looked at Dean. “Didn’t Chuck write you as brothers?”

           If he was looking for understanding, Dean had none to offer and just shook his head. “It’s a scary world, Cas. It’s not just the fans that paired me and Sam together, apparently our 'severe co-dependency' got misinterpreted by people on cases all the time.”

           He handed the waitress a couple of folded bills as they left the diner, stepping out into the humid night air that made Dean feel sticky all over.

           Watching the blonde as she headed toward her car, he called out, “Keep me updated, Becky. Call if you need info on something before you just write it into the story.”

           She saluted, pausing with her car door open. “What are you gonna do?”

           He turned to regard the angel next to him, grinning at his friend as he did so. “We’ve got ourselves a prophet to find.”

           They were quiet until after they’d watched her drive away, waited until they were alone to talk freely. Dean was relaxed, hands in his pockets, and half smile on his features as he waved goodbye to the woman, feeling more cheerful than he had, well since before his brother died. Castiel, on the other hand, was a storm waiting to be unleashed.

           “ _No_ , Dean.”

           Dean rolled his eyes, having seen this coming. “Would you relax? It’s not a big deal, why make it one?”

           The angel rounded on him seriously. “Dean, I cannot allow you to take part in the search for Chuck. I will see to this matter personally, there’s no need to involve yourself.”

           Dean shook his head. “Cas-“

           “Dean,” the angel cut in impatiently. Dean looked at him, took in the gravity with which the angel regarded him. “This is why I was forbidden from coming to see you. You are no longer in the hunter lifestyle; that is to be respected. You are free to live a normal life, and I was ordered not to do anything that would jeopardize your new life. With Lisa.”

           Waving a hand dismissively, the hunter scoffed. “Screw Heaven’s orders.”

           “I am being serious.”

           “So am I,” the blond threw back, jaw muscles twitching. “Hell, if I was so worried about staying out of trouble, I would have moved the three of us somewhere Sam could never find us since according to the books, his sudden reappearance is what finally gets me back in. No, I read the books and  _immediately_  called  _you_. The angel that is the Big Bad of prophesied days, wanting to stop us from walking down that road, Cas.”

           The angel shook his head tiredly. “They are not prophecies, though, Dean. Your worry was misplaced.”

           “Doesn’t change the fact that we still have a case on our hands now.”

           Brows knit in confusion as Cas angled his head questioningly. “What about Lisa?”

           That brought Dean up short, because yeah. Lisa.

           He loved Lisa, no doubt about it, would do anything for her, but…

           He moved past Cas and paused, shaking his head. “Lisa would expect me to help if a friend went missing, it’s just what you do. You don’t cut out the good people in your life because you want something different.”

           At a loss, Castiel stepped away, brows drawn together and frowning as he separated them in the mostly vacant parking lot. “I do not understand.” He pivoted to offer Dean an utterly confused and lost expression. “I thought you wanted a life with her. That you had come to love her-“

           “No, no, I’m not saying I don’t care about Lisa, I do. And I’m not saying I’m dropping everything to get back into hunting, I’m not. I just want to help look for Chuck.” He ran a hand over his hair, struggling to find the words. “Lisa has been… Cas, man, she’s been my saving grace through all of this. When I was drowning, she took me in and offered me a place to hide from the things I couldn’t face, couldn’t handle. She kept me alive. She is loving and sweet and loyal and she loves her son more than any kid has ever been loved.”

           “You feel indebted to her.”

           The taller male faltered. “No? Well, not exactly.” He huffed. “It’s complicated.”

           Castiel glanced around the mostly vacant parking lot, spreading his hands as though to indicate they were the only two there. “We survived the Apocalypse together, Dean. Surely you can trust me with this?”

           Dean scowled and pointed accusingly at him. “Low blow, Cas.”

           “It was not meant as one, I only wish for you to talk to me and be truthful.”

           Sucking in a deep breath, Dean dropped his gaze, toeing at the gravel beneath his boots. “Me and Lis… I dunno, man. The problem is me, it’s gotta be me.”

           “Are the two of you fighting?”

           “What? No, nothing like that. We’re fine. We get along fine. Life with the three of us is  _fine_.”

           A light flicked in Cas ancient eyes and he nodded, knowingly. “Ah, but you aren’t happy and thus think it must be your fault. You feel guilt for being less than perfectly contented when you have what you _thought_ you wanted. You’re torn between doing what your brother asked of you as his dying request, the loyalty and indebtedness you feel for Lisa, and that part of you that use to enjoy being a hunter and saving lives.”

           Dean pivoted to face him. “Maybe it isn’t just one or the other, maybe it’s possible to somehow mesh the two worlds- I’m not saying it would be easy, but that it could be done. Maybe I could have both, _do_  both.”

           Mouth opening, then closing, Cas pressed his lips into a firm line. “Your grandparents took such a path, as have others, so it is a possibility.”

           Dean regarded him, tensing. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

           “But what would Lisa think of that?”

           He pictured Lisa in his head, remembered the way she had taken him in without complaint, had handled the supernatural being dumped in her lap with no problem, had simply adapted and gone with it as things came at her.

           “I think Lisa is an amazing woman who rolls with the punches and can go with the flow. I just need to talk to her.”

 

 

            Talking things out with Lisa did _not_ go the way he thought they would. Like, at all.

            He stood with his hands on his hips regarding Baby where he’d already backed her out of the garage, and frowned. Baby’s paint gleamed at him, the keys ready and waiting in his pocket for him to get in and drive. He had his old duffel already packed and thrown in the trunk. Cas would be there soon, they’d hit the road headed to Bobby’s, and… Dean wouldn’t be back.

            It hadn’t been that Lisa had thrown him out when he’d told her that he and Cas had a friend that had gone missing they needed to look for. She hadn’t even been upset. The opposite, really. This sort of smile had crept over her face, and then the smile had become a grin until she was beaming at him.

            “So have you finally figured it out? To go back to what actually makes _you_ happy?”

            That had _not_  been what he was saying. What came out of his mouth when he opened it, though, was, “I thought I’d give it a try.”

            She nodded, accepting this answer. “Well, once you have, if you want to, you are more than welcome to come back here with me and Ben.” Angling her head, she cast him a sly glance from under dark lashes. “But I don’t think you’ll want to,” she said, flashing teeth.

            He’d studied her face consideringly, trying to see what she saw, to understand why she looked happy _for him_. It was like she had been waiting for him to reach some conclusion and thought he finally had. Had she sensed what he’d felt? The traitorous part of him that, for a reason Dean couldn’t name, had been so homesick and lonely since coming to live with her? He loved Lisa and Ben, and in a lot of ways, they had saved him, but they also weren’t his stopping point, weren’t where he was meant to be.

            Truth be told, though, where that was exactly, Dean had no idea. Could he get back into hunting if he was doing it solo?

            He’d already said good-bye to Ben before he left for school. Though he’d hated to ruin the kid’s day like that, but Ben had just bobbed his head resignedly, worrying the toe of his sneaker against the floor.

            “Yeah. Mom said you’d probably only stay until you got your head above the water again. You’ll come by and see us again, won’t you?”

            Dean promised he would.

            It was as Dean was in the driveway, keys clenched too tightly in his fist, that Castiel appeared. There was the familiar sound of the displacement of air and feathers and then he was regarding the other man from across the roof.

            Blue eyes slid from his to regard the house, then back again with a sudden uncertainty. “Are you ready?”

            Dean didn’t know what Cas saw when he looked at the mortal world around him, but he got the feeling the angel had picked up on the all the things Dean hadn’t told him yet in just that one look.

            But, surprisingly, the tension had melted out of his shoulders, the fingers that had been crushing sharp bits of metal into his palm loosened, and he nodded, somehow relieved by the other man’s presence.

            “Yeah. Yeah, I am. C’mon.”

            Castiel was silent for a whole twenty minutes of the car ride before he dared speak, probably trying to give Dean time to deal with his own emotions about what had taken place.

            “Dean, I’m not comfortable with this,” admitted the other man, twisting in his seat to regard the hunter. “You and Lisa ended your relationship, didn’t you?”

            A bitter laugh escaped Dean. “The romantic aspect of it? Yes. Altogether? No.”

            “You need to turn the car around and go back, Dean. I cannot ask you to go back into the hunter lifestyle, to give up a home where you were  _safe_. I will continue the search for Chuck.”

            The blond rolled his eyes. “First, you didn’t ask me to, this was my idea, remember? Secondly, things weren’t right between me and Lisa, we’re much more suited as friends than lovers. Her voicing my own feelings was like a huge weight off my shoulders. This is much better and we will all be happier than settling for contentment.”

            “Dean-”

            “Cas, quit stressing over it. Lisa will find her one true love, and someday, I might find somebody crazy enough to put up with me till death do we part. Life goes on.”

            Castiel regarded him curiously, head angled as those blue eyes flicked over the hunter’s face. Finally, he sighed and pivoted back in his seat. “I just want you safe and happy, Dean, regardless of where you find it. You’ve  _earned_  that. But if you are determined to go through with this, then it is you who must call and tell Bobby.” Dejected, he seemed to sink into the seat of the Impala. “Even still, he may well kill me.”

            Dean nodded, agreeing it would be best not to catch his surrogate father off guard. “Why do you say that?”

            “He was the one who ordered me to leave you alone in the first place.”

           Dean called Bobby after they had been on the road for a few hours. If Dean had expected much of a fight out of Bobby for his decision, he didn’t get one. Bobby was, however, immediately worried when he answered Dean’s call and half the conversation had been spent assuring the older man than nothing was wrong and he didn’t need to bring an armory to Lisa’s house. The other half was spent explaining that Dean and Castiel were headed to his house and why. 

            When they finally did get to the old hunter's that evening and unloaded from the car, Dean grabbed Castiel by the elbow and dragged him out of sight from the house, pulling him into a tight embrace once more. Cas readily hugged him back this time.

            “I meant what I said, Cas,” he admitted in a low gruff voice. “It is so good to be able to see you again. I didn’t just lose Sam that day- I lost my whole damn family. Sam, Bobby,  _and_  you. I won’t do that again. I can’t.” He stepped back, one hand on the angel’s shoulder as he gave him a serious look. “So I don’t care who or what orders you to stay away from me in the future, you cuss them in every language you know and then immediately come find me. You are always welcome in my life, Cas.”

            Cas surprised Dean by blinking rapidly and being forced to break eyes contract as he recomposed himself. “I believe you are the first person to ever tell me such a thing. It is… deeply comforting to know.”

            Clapping him once on the back, Dean nodded and started walking toward the house. “C’mon. Let’s get this ass chewing over with so we can actually get to work.”

            Opening the door, Bobby immediately pulled Dean into a bear hug, grumbling softly about what an idjit Dean was and how there was no hope for him. The younger man laughed and clapped him on the back.

            “Good to see you, too.”

            Bobby’s gaze slid past him to the other form standing on the porch. “And  _you_ ,” The last word came out as a growl as he fixed his eyes on Castiel, who stood warily back. “I specifically told you-“

            "Lay off the angel, Bobby. I called him in a panic, and like a true friend he immediately came to my aid regardless of whatever consequences he would reap because of it. You leave my boy alone.”

            “Isn’t that sweet,” a voice inside interjected. “Claiming ownership already. Please let me know when the wedding is so I can be sure to send a present.”

            Dean frowned at the sight of Crowley leaning against the counter of the kitchen, while neither Bobby or Castiel acted as though it were something out of the ordinary or cause for alarm. He looked at all three men.

            “What the hell is  _he_  doing here?”

            Snorting, Bobby walked away swearing mildly under his breath.

            “Crowley has taken to making regular visits here in past months,” explained the angel flatly. “Apparently, the King of Hell has nothing better to do than plague the rest of us.”

            “Now, now, darling, don’t get testy with me after your long car ride,” tsked the demon. “You ought to be more grateful I’m here on such friendly terms considering all the trouble you lot have caused me in the past.”

            “Then why are you here?” demanded Dean.

            “Everything we did put him in our debt,” said Cas, coming to stand at Dean’s elbow. “He’s bound to us until he pays it off. A predicament unforeseen by either party.”

            “He’s not willing to just pay us back and be done with it either, he picks how and when he makes payments,” griped Bobby from the study.

            Smiling, Crowley shrugged, “Quite frankly, I’m very glad things have worked out to where you’re back in the life, Dean. Makes my job of paying back debts a great deal easier. What with the way these morons have tried so hard to keep you away, I might never have been free to go about my business.” A sly grin past over the demon's face as he turned and let his eyes roam over Bobby's form. "Then again, I think Bobby here is getting fonder of me than he'd like to admit to."

            Rolling his eyes, Dean ignored the leering demon and ventured into the library where Bobby was now behind the desk flipping through a book, already researching prophets.

            “Why were you so desperate to keep me away anyway, Bobby?” he asked, standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded across his chest. “I mean, okay, I get you wanted me out of the hunter life, but man, that doesn’t mean you just cut all contact with a person. What? You think a phone call or a visit would have pulled me back into the hunter lifestyle, as if that was all it would take?”

            “It was too risky,” the other man argued, not looking up. Castiel was glaring at Crowley as if ordering him to keep his mouth shut and wipe that damn amused look off his face. “I didn’t want to give you any ammunition to kill the shot at a normal life you had.”

            “What ammunition?” he demanded angrily.

            “Me,” a voice interjected softly from the doorway.

            Dean froze at the sound, knowing that voice as well as he knew his own or Castiel’s. It was a voice he knew he’d never hear again. He  _knew_. So why was no one looking at him? Instead they all dropped their gazes guiltily or busied themselves in the other room, leaving Dean to steel himself up, preparing to find out his imagination was being a cruel bastard, as he slowly turned to face the speaker.

            Tears immediately welled in his eyes, heart caught in his throat as he was torn between the need to sit down and surging forward to hug the man leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets.

            Sam gave him an apologetic smile. “Hey, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All seriousness, though,” Charlie began again. “He’s pretty cool.”  
> Dean was silent for a moment, watching as Cas grabbed up his trench coat and slid into it with flourish before stalking purposefully back their way. The moon illuminated his face, his eyes piercing in the half light, and angel sword gleaming at his side.  
> “Yeah, he is.”

**AN** : This story involves a long-term, temporary, but plot relevant genderswap. I assure you, the character is still completely in character after transformation.

 **AN2** : Characters from Season Seven get thrust into the story in the chapter, circumstance causing the parties to meet much soon than they did in the show.

 

**Chapter 3**

Chapter Summary

“All seriousness, though,” Charlie began again. “He’s pretty cool.”  
Dean was silent for a moment, watching as Cas grabbed up his trench coat and slid into it with flourish before stalking purposefully back their way. The moon illuminated his face, his eyes piercing in the half light, and angel sword gleaming at his side.  
“Yeah, he is.”

 

**Chapter Three**

Dean surged forward, throwing his arms around his brother and holding on with the desperation of a drowning man. Sam gripped him tight, softly whispering words Dean really couldn’t hear over the sounds of his heart pounding in his ears, the roaring of emotions that threatened to turn him into an emotional mess with a practical audience of witnesses.

            “You’re alive,” Dean finally managed to whisper, barely managing some level of control. He stepped back, hands still gripping his brother’s arms as he let his eyes play over the face he’d known he would never see again. “Sammy, you’re  _alive_.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head as confusion and a sense of betrayal swept in. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

            “We were going to eventually, Dean,” Sam assured him. His expression was so apologetic. Cas met Dean’s eyes with a pained expression, and Dean could practically hear the angel apologizing, remembered the pain on the other man’s face when he’d told Dean he  _couldn’t_  tell Dean anything, then the way he’d later said it was Bobby who’d ordered him to stay away from Dean. The elder Winchester looked back at his brother. “We wanted to give you a chance at the apple pie life without any distractions for as long as possible.” He shook his head. “When I came back, and with no answers or explanations to boot, I was in no shape to do anything. We didn’t want to involve you until we had something more reassuring on hand.”

            Releasing his brother, Dean let the other man’s words wash over him, looking him over from head-to-toe. He looked the same, okay, maybe leaner like he’d lost weight, in fact, what with his height, he almost had the same awkward skinny look he’d had when Dean came to him at Stanford all those years ago. With a smile, Sam leaned against the doorframe again, tiredly.

            Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, recognizing something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong? Why are you having to lean?”

            Bobby coughed lightly, drawing Dean’s demanded glare. “Because when he came back, he was like a coma patient just waking up. He’s been having to relearn everything, even walking. His body’s fine, he’s just gotta get it back in prime condition is all.”

            Green eyes snapped back to his brother. “But you’re okay, right? Healthy? No heart problems? Soul’s intact? Cas, check and make sure his soul is there.” This last part he ordered, spinning around to face the angel standing in the corner.

The angel of the Lord was shaking his head, hands up in a placating manner. “Dean, I already told you those books are  _false_   _prophecies_. I assure you that Sam has a soul and it is in perfect condition.”

“How?”

“Because I can  _see_  it, Dean.” The angel shook his head in aggravation. “Not to mention, that without a soul to occupy a body, the body is inanimate.”

“Just a meatsuit,” offered Crowley. “Empty.”

Dean’s gaze flicked to each of them in turn, gauging how much he was willing to trust extend. Any other day when a hunter, an angel, and a demon all agreed… it was generally a bad thing.

           He turned back to Sam. “B-but you’re okay, right? No problems?”

            “Dean, I’m  _fine_.”

            His head bobbed. “Okay, okay.” He whirled on the rest of the room. “Then somebody owes me a damn big explanation as to why no one told me.” Cas winced and glared at Bobby before dropping his gaze. Dean pivoted to face his brother again. “And why’re you riding with training wheels?”

            The demon in the room sighed dramatically, drawing all attention to where he stood. He made a show of checking his watch before disappearing with only waggle of fingers.

            Cas sighed. “Thought he’d never leave,” he admitted flatly. He motioned to the couch by the window. “You should probably sit down, Sam.”

            The taller man nodded his thanks at the suggestion, moving to take a seat and flopping almost bonelessly down onto it while Cas moved into the kitchen to retrieve him a bottle of water. Green eyes catalogued every movement, gaze narrowed. Sam sighed gratefully as Cas handed him the cold water, accepting it with a smile.

            Flooding relief had given way to a sense of betrayal and confusion which was increasingly becoming irritation as answers weren’t being offered. Jaw clenched, Dean turned his head to glare at his surrogate father.

            “Start explaining. Now.” The muscle in his jaw flexed. “What happened and why wasn’t I informed? How long have I been grieving a brother that wasn’t dead?”

            The older man flinched again, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “You have to understand, Dean-“

            “Just tell me.”

            Bobby sighed, lifting tired eyes to meet the younger man’s. “He was only gone a week,” he said finally. Dean clenched his teeth hard, balling his hands into fists as he straightened himself. “We didn’t do anything to bring him back, mind you. One minute he was dead, the next minute, I hear the sound of a body hitting the floor in here and found Sam dead to the world.” He hooked a thumb at Cas. “I had to call him just to get Sam upstairs. Your brother was comatose at first. We summoned Crowley to ask him about it. Cas said Sam wasn’t Lucifer anymore, but we still had no way of knowing how he got out or how he landed in my living room.”

            “Crowley had not had a hand in setting Sam free,” offered Cas, making Dean look at him. The angel was still giving him that silently beseeching look Dean was sure only he recognized. “He hadn’t even thought it possible for anyone but my Father to get Sam out of the Cage. Crowley woke him from his coma.”

“So you’re telling me  _God_  brought him back?”

“We can only assume so; there is no one else with the ability. A war had to be fought and centuries of scheming and chance had to happen in order to open the cage the first time. There is literally no other conceivable alternative to consider.”

He wasn’t sure when, but Dean had begun to pace, once moving to fix himself a drink, then faltering and walking away, rubbing his hands over his jeans as his mind whirled.

“Okay, fine. God popped the lock and sent Sam home. What about Adam?”

Cas nodded. “I checked on that. His soul is in Heaven, as is his mother’s, where it was before Michael brought him back in order to take him as a vessel. He is fine.”

Dean paused in his pacing to face his friend, their eyes locking. “Then why wasn’t I told?” he questioned in a low, hard tone, more of Cas than anyone else.

Dean had expected Cas of all people to come to him if he knew Sam could be saved, even more so if he had been. Cas understood Dean better than anyone, hell, could probably read his mind. If Cas knew… Dean didn’t understand how or why the angel stayed away and kept Dean in the dark. He’d been able to rationalize Cas’ intolerable absence in the face of Sam being dead, had even appreciated it in those first few weeks when Dean was sure he’d have only wrongfully lashed out at the angel, if only to have someone to take his anger out on.

The angel broke eye contact, looking away.

“That was at my request,” Sam said, making Dean snap his gaze to his brother’s. “I couldn’t even walk under my own power, Dean. I was fine, but I didn’t want you to see me like that, not when that wasn’t enough reason to drag you away from the shot at a normal life you had. The plan was to get me back to normal, then come to you and let you know, that way you wouldn’t feel the need to leave your life in order to look after me, which you  _would_  do, Dean, you would. We just wanted to give you more time before you knew.”

Dean kept his distance from his brother, but pointedly warningly at him. “I ought to hit you, Sam-“

“I know.”

“I have every right.”

“I know.”

“You do not get to fucking decide what is  _my_  best interest when I have lost the  _one_   _person_  I was raised to protect and value more than my own life, Sam! You do not have that right!” He covered his mouth with his hand, rubbing at his chin and jaw while backing away even further.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Three months, Sam!” Dean yelled at him, hands raking over his hair. “I have been falling apart and losing my mind and thinking you were being tortured by Lucifer and Michael for three fucking months, Sam! For THIRTY YEARS! That was how long it took me to break just under Alastair!” He choked on the words and nobody was looking at him now, recoiling under his anger. “And all because you didn’t want me to give up an  _idea_ , with a woman I barely knew. That’s not a life, Sam! Tha-that’s Stockholm Syndrome or something! I love Lisa, sure, but I was never in love with her. I loved what she represented, but I never wanted it under those circumstances, where every day when I woke up to the perfect life I knew it was at a cost I would never have willingly paid.”

Sam stood, angrily, fists clenched down by his sides. “It was the only way I could think of to keep you safe! If I hadn’t asked you to go to her, you’d have purposefully gotten yourself killed on a hunt, or hell, even just eaten the end of your own gun-“

“ _I wanted to!_ ” Dean railed at him, furious now. Everyone recoiled at that admission, Dean heaving for air. “You have no idea how close I came, and it wasn’t  _Lisa_  that stopped me, it wasn’t Lisa that made me stay, it was by remembering that you died to save this planet and me, that you were _still_ paying that price, and I wasn’t going to throw that back in your face by splattering my brains all over the place.”

Silence settled heavy over the room except for the sound of Dean’s ragged breath, his tight fists shaking down by his side. The air suddenly stifling, he turned and made his way from the room and out of the house, letting the screen door slam loudly behind him as he stalked off to lose himself in Bobby’s scrap yard.

~*~

It was Cas that came after him some time later, moving to lean back against the sheet metal of Bobby’s workshop and sliding down until he was sitting directly next to Dean. The hunter sat with his knees bent, arms stretched out across them and fingers dangling. They sat in silence for a long time, sitting so close Cas’ thigh was pressed against Dean’s, the other man’s heat comforting to the hunter.

“You should have told me, Cas,” Dean said finally, voice rough and low, as he kept his head angled back and gaze locked on the sky.

The angel mimicked his posture, tilting his head back. “I know. I still have much to learn, I suppose,” he offered softly, then admitted, “I checked on you frequently. I thought you would eventually be happy with your life. With Ben and Lisa.”

The hunter sucked in a deep breath. “I was living an idea, Cas. A dream. Someday, yeah, maybe I can do the whole marriage and a house and a kid, but it has to be done the right way, not by just… claiming some people and calling it your life so you don’t have to deal with the fact that your life is in shambles around you. I  _used_  them, and that isn’t right by them.”

“I understand.”

Dean knocked his knee against Castiel’s. “We’re just lucky Lisa understood. A lesser woman would not have been as accepting and forgiving, would not have put up with me and my crap.” A wry smirk passed over his lips. “Heaven owes her an award or something.”

“I’ll fill out the appropriate forms.” Dean chuckled and the angel continued, “I’ve filled Bobby and Sam in on our current situation when it comes to Chuck. There are things you need to be informed of as well before we start researching.”

Dean side-eyed the angel and their gazes met. “Something bad?”

“Just… reports of odd behavior from monsters. As of now, Bobby is only collecting the information until he can see if there is a pattern.” He regarded the clouds passing overhead. “Also, there has been some unrest within the hunter community lately, antagonism towards you and your brother growing.”

Dean snapped his head to look at him. “What?”

“We’re blaming demons, obviously, and Crowley has no leads on the responsible parties, but you and Sam are being accused of starting the Apocalypse.”

“We kinda did, though.”

“Intentionally starting it,” corrected Cas. “And we don’t know how, but word has gotten out that Sam has been brought back to life as well, that both the Winchesters are still alive. Bobby is running a lot of interference, but Sam’s been labeled the anti-Christ, apparently, and the two of you are advocates of Hell. Sam is to be the new King of Hell and you are to rule at his right hand.”

“What, like his wife?” he asked in horror. Did this incest nightmare never end?

A huff of laughter escaped Castiel. “As his advisor and confidante. Hand of the King.”

Scoffing, Dean shook his head. “Fucking peachy.”

“I think there must be demons loyalists within the hunter community, along with the demons themselves, that are stirring up these rumors.” He sighed. “I suppose it was too optimistic to think either side would just accept the end of their plans.”

“Yeah, but God showed up to knock heads together in Heaven, now let Crowley do it downstairs and things will probably be fine.” The angel made a non-committal noise. “What can the demons think they have to gain from stirring up that trouble?” he asked, pushing to his feet and offering a hand out to Castiel.

The angel took it and rose. “Sully your names and tarnish your reputations.” He shrugged and shook his head. “Turn your own kind against you.”

Dean sighed as they began walking back to the house. “Well, I least I got Ben and Lisa properly inked, warded, and educated on how to protect themselves.”

“That is something,” Cas agreed.

~*~

Dean was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, books and papers spread out before him. This was something that never changed. He wondered how they didn’t have half these books memorized already, or how there was always something new to learn and look up. It was always aggravating when they found things that would have been convenient to know on some earlier case.

Bobby was hunched over the desk, occasionally taking phone calls and making notes, pushing an indicator pin into a map on the wall, or offering advise to hunters that called in. Behind him, Cas was seated on the couch, a massive, heavy tome propped open across his thighs and a furrow in his brow as he read with inhuman speed. Sam’s workstation was at the table, his own stacks of books arranged, and laptop set up as he cross-referenced over and over again.

Rubbing a knuckle in his eye, Dean pushed to his feet, making his way into the kitchen for coffee.

“So Bobby said you’ve been having to go through physical therapy?” he questioned.

His brother didn’t spare him a glance, just held out his cup. “Uh, yeah. Woke up like my muscles hadn’t been used in forever. Practically had to crawl to get to the bathroom on my own.”

Dean shuffled around the kitchen to make a new pot of coffee. “So how’d you get a nurse out here? Bobby said she comes every day? How are y’all affording that?”

Sam looked away from his research, pivoting in his chair with one arm over the back to regard his brother. “She’s not actually a nurse. Jody helped me out for the first week or so. Then Sarah tracked us down and she took over since the Sheriff has a less flexible schedule.”

The elder man frowned. “Sarah?” he echoed.

Sam let out a nervous huff of laughter. “Uh, yeah. Sarah Blake. We met her a few years ago. She works at an art gallery with her dad in New York?” Dean blinked with sudden remembrance, and Sam continued, “She apparently came across the books on accident, connected the dots, and then used them to track us down. She’s also got a bit of an information network in the hunter community now, having gotten involved wanting to avoid ending up selling dangerous pieces, and purposefully going after potentially cursed objects to keep them from falling into innocent hands.”

“And now she’s become your personal nurse?” His brother wobbled his head and shrugged. Dean snorted and moved to fix them both coffee. “Dude, this time you need to listen to me and  _marry that girl_.”

The other man turned back to his work with a chuckle, hoping to hide the blush tinting his face. “Shut up.”

Placing down one of the cups, Dean swatted the back of his brother’s head as he passed, smiling at the indignant sound of surprise that earned him, feeling happy as he settled back down into his previous spot. He was happy to have what felt like  _his life_  back. Happy to have Sam alive and giant as ever, to have Cas as his wingman. His world suddenly made sense again, he knew his place in it.

Bobby was busy talking on the phone again, the device wedged between his ear and shoulder as he wrote quickly on a notepad, making ‘uh huh’ noises every few seconds and nodding, before he finally hung up and rose to his feet, walking over to the map filled with color coded pins on the wall.

“Gotta case for you boys,” he stated.

Dean blinked at him in surprise. “We’re on a case already.”

The other man spared him only a brief glare over his shoulder. “Yeah? Well, I’ve got zombies digging their way out of their graves, and every night _more_ of them climbing their way out. You need to put the whole damn graveyard down and then bless it or something so they can’t keep reanimating.”

Choking on his coffee, Dean repeated, “An  _entire_   _graveyard_?”

“You see why Garth called in for help. He recruited the help of a civilian, but the numbers are to their disadvantage. Even the ones he salted and burned are waking up and walking around the next night.”

“Oh that’s just fabulous,” snapped Dean. “Well, if saltin’ and burnin’ ‘em ain’t doing the trick, what else are _we_ suppose to do?”

Bobby canted his head to the side, giving him a flat look, hands on his hips. “You forget your boy there is an angel? We need all the good PR we can get right now. I need you two working the field while me and Sam keep looking here.”

Sam was standing in the doorway, arms folded. “Sounds like they could use all the help they can get, Bobby. I probably better go with them.”

“You can forget that,” Dean snapped, pointing at his brother. “You aren’t going anywhere near anything more dangerous than the  _library_  until I get a written note from a doctor okaying you to go back to work, do you hear me?”

“Dean,” sighed Sam in irritation.

“Do not ‘Dean’ me. You were  _dead_  yesterday, do you get that? You have been for months. Now you’re here and in physical therapy after being found alive, but comatose, so forgive me, but I am going to be _unbearable_  for a while and you can just deal with that! You. Are. Not. Going!” He spun around to face his surrogate father. “Where are we going and when are we expected?”

~*~

They arrived just as the final rays of the sun were dipping below the horizon and the only light came from the countless stars overhead, the massive full moon hanging like an ominous presence in the sky above them, practically lit the cemetery like Dodger’s stadium.

Dean took only long enough to grab his shotgun and a machete before he and Cas were running full speed toward the cemetery, jumping the low fence and rushing across the graveyard to where the other hunters were already taking out whatever crawled its way out of a grave.

“Who are you?” demanded an absurdly skinny guy with a ball cap and a rifle. A petite girl with red hair snapped her head to look at them, remaining silent as he questioned, “Singer send you?”

“No,” snapped Dean, firing off a shot. “We just came expecting a random zombie apocalypse and decided to join in.” The fallen zombie was that of a woman in a high neck dress that was barely more than rags on her bony frame. “Are you Garth?”

The man nearly shot his own foot off when the ground beneath his feet betrayed him and a zombie grabbed onto his ankle, using the leverage to try and pull itself out. That was, until Garth shot it in the head. “That would be me,” he affirmed, dusting off one hand and offering it out. “The one and only.”

Dean rolled his eyes and jerked him back by his forearm. “The one about to get bitten by a zombie if you don’t stop standing on graves while the dead are rising.” He offered to affronted man his hand. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. This is Castiel.”

As they shook, Garth let his eyes roam over the man by Dean’s side, the angel’s eyes scanning the graveyard for anymore movement that would break the brief respite.

“No offense, but I don’t allow civilians on my cases,” he stated pointedly.

Dean nodded to the red head with the gun. “Isn’t she a civilian?”

“I don’t allow unarmed, potentially untrained, civilians on my cases,” Garth amended.

The woman offered her hand to Dean. “Charlie. Charlie Bradbury.” She jerked her head at the skinny man beside her. “Garth here sent me a PM asking if I wanted to take on some Live Action zombie experience for once, then hastily explained on the way over, that no, he did not mean the totally safe Role-Play kind, either.”

Dean scoffed at Garth. “I cannot believe you brought a civilian with you as back up.”

“You’re one to talk!”

“I am no civilian,” Castiel interrupted, glowering as though he’d been insulted, making Dean puff a little in pride and amusement. “I’m Angel of the Lord, and the two of you would do well to stay out of the way and off any graves that haven’t been dealt with.”

Moans from one corner of the graveyard made all four of them jerk their heads in that direction, just as more came from the other way, the graveyard stirring to life one corpse at a time all around them. Wordlessly, Cas strode off toward the largest pack without a backwards glance, coat billowing around his legs. Dean took off after him, twisting and barking at Charlie and Garth. “You two deal with those. We’ve got these. Don’t get boxed in or separated, and for the love of God, shout for help  _before_  you get bitten!”

Oh yes, the party doesn’t start till the sun goes down, Dean thought, firing off a shot as a woman perched on her own headstone suddenly launched herself off with an open mouthed snarl, bony fingers like outstretched claws.

Cas snatched up a little boy in a child’s suit and slammed him head first into a stone bench, light pouring from the thing's eyes and mouth. They pivoted, going back-to-back as zombies came at them from either side, Dean firing his weapon with a wide grin on his face, “Boom! Head shot!” while Cas drove his angel blade to hilt through the underside of some man’s jaw and into his skull.

They worked in perfect synchronization to take on the small pack that had all risen as one, corpses of all ages and levels of decay shambling toward them with open maw and outstretched fingers.

Panting to catch his breath and grinning widely, Dean made sure none of the bodies at their feet were moving anymore before he caught Cas’ eye over his shoulder and they nodded to each other.

Then they took off running, sprinting past headstones and small monuments in the moonlight, taking out the occasional Walking Dead that they passed in their mad dash to get to the cluster of zombies that were making their way to Charlie and Garth.

Dean leapt on the base of a massive angel statue the cemetery seemed centered around, scrambling up its form until he had one arm hooked around its upper arm, his boot sole finding purchase on the stone sheath at its hip. He fired off a shot from his vantage point, taking the head clean off a man who’d been buried in his military uniform.

“Boom! Head shot!” The remaining zombies faltered, turning back to regard their fallen comrade, then the man on the statue. “Yeah, that’s right, maggot munch, come get some.”

“Dean, don’t talk smack at monsters lacking the brain cells to appreciate they are being provoked,” reprimanded Castiel, ducking under the arms of a woman who appeared to have been buried in her wedding dress. He shoved his blade through her spine and out her chest, making her slump to the ground with a thud and crumple of fabric as Dean shot the groom that was reaching for Castiel.

“It got their attention, didn’t it?”

“So would barking like a dog, but I notice you refrained.”

Dean cackled as his feet landed on solid ground again, removing his machete and he and Cas fought hand-to-hand against the undead stumbling over those that had fallen before them.

“You seem to be having fun,” commented Cas with a grunt, shoving his angel blade into the chest of one zombie and then with drawing it in a splash of black blood, while reaching for another and lighting it up from within.

“Best day I’ve had in months, Cas,” he admitted, grinning.

He heard a whoop and a cheer from the distance, looking over in time to see Charlie blow the head clean off three zombies in a row.

“BOOM!” she cried, punching air. “Head shot! You bitches ain’t got nothing on me!”

Dean nudged Cas and jerked his chin toward the pair, the two men taking off at a jog to help as the zombies condensed around them.

“I’m honestly not sure if she’s referring to the zombies or  _us_.”

Charlie seemed to be handling her own just fine. Garth, the _professional_ hunter, was the one Dean had no idea how he was still alive when he was twig thin and all uncoordinated limbs and movement.

Dean slid to a stop and into a batter’s stance behind one of the zombies, striking out with the machete so the blade bit clean into the neck and slid through with little resistance.

Grabbing a couple of zombies, Castiel spun around and hurled them away, splaying out a hand and bracing his feet as blessed light shot forth from his palms. He incinerated the walking corpses so that chest cavity and up where just gone when they collapsed in a heap on the ground. Dean grabbed Garth and shoved him down into a crouch, covering his head as Charlie spun and fired off a shot with scary accuracy for a civilian.

“Another one for me,” she declared. “I am totally gonna win.”

“Thinking of this as a game and not taking is seriously will get you killed,” Dean warned her. From his position, Cas snorted and rolled his eyes, grappling with another child, jaw unhinged and hanging at an impossible angle.

Charlie and Dean fell into step together, back-to-back, taking on the zombies in a circle around them with ruthless ease and teamwork.

“Tech girl fighting real life zombies when twelve hours ago I didn’t think they existed yet.”she informed him, using her gun to hold off an old man that got too close, her gun held in both hand in front of her as she fended him off, then slammed the butt of her gun across his face. “Thinking of this as a game is what’s keeping me from falling apart.”

“So you have no experience fighting these?” demanded Dean incredulously.

She ducked as his blade swung above her head and decapitated another gray skinned figure. “Only in video games. It’s how we met. He’s on my team.” She eyed the skinny hunter. “He’s the first guy I’ve met that actually fashioned an avatar to look anything remotely like himself. He acts exactly the same too, which is totally weird-“

“Duck!” Dean ordered, hand on her head and shoving her down as Castiel’s angel blade soared through the air where their heads had been a moment earlier.

She popped back up like a spring. “And he’s just as fumbly in the game, but still always manages to come through, even if he does need to be revived more often than anyone else I’ve ever worked with.”

He watched as Garth was backed straight into a headstone, flailed awkwardly, before flipping head over heels backward over it, quite possibly firing off a shot by complete accident as he did so, and putting a hole clean through the head of the walker that had been after him.

“Garth?” Dean called cautiously. “You okay?”

A pale hand shot up above the granite stone and waved. “All good here!”

Dean shook his head, not even sure how the guy hadn’t survived this long as a hunter.

“Your angel buddy is pretty awesome,” offered Charlie. “He’s got the whole stoic-badass thing working for him. Plus, y’know,  _angel_. It would be fun to see if I could crack that stoic mask.”

“Well, if you want to get him flustered, hitting on him is probably your best option,” Dean suggested lightly, shoving the muzzle into the mouth of a particular undead and pulling the trigger.

Charlie huffed a laugh. “Oh he’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but totally not my type.”

Dean did a double-take in surprise. “Not your type? With those ridiculously blue eyes and permanent bed head? I thought that was _every_ woman’s type.”

“Only if he were a woman to go with those pretty blues and sex hair.”

“I  _can_  hear you, you know,” Cas called out, sounding incredibly irritated. “Also, Garth has been knocked unconscious.”

“What?” Dean and Charlie squawked in unison.

“He was on his feet not five minutes ago!” spat Dean as Charlie snorted and shook her head.

“Typical Garthinator.”

“Unbelievable,” groaned Dean, firing a shot into a woman’s chest, then used his machete to cut through what was left of her already partially severed neck.

 “Let’s just focus on the few remaining undead so that we may purge this cursed ground and go home,” ordered Castiel impatiently, smiting a zombie midstep as he made his way back over to them. “We have research to do and a prophet to find, if you recall.”

Digging the heel of her boot into the back of a zombie dragging itself toward Dean, Charlie placed the muzzle at the back of its head and pulled the trigger, sneering at the gore that splattered on her shoes and pants. “Busy day for you two, then, huh?”

“You have no idea,” snorted Dean, driving his blade into another zombie’s skull and pulling it back out, flicking black blood off the blade with a movement.

They finished off the last of the zombies, Cas moving silently around the graveyard, weaving between headstones to lay his hands on corpses one at a time before they vanished, perhaps smited to oblivion, or maybe he just put them all back in their graves. Dean and Charlie together in mirroring posture on a stone bench by the iron fence, slumped forward with an elbow on their knee and chin in hand, their eyes tracking Cas’ movement around the graveyard. In the quiet aftermath of the battle, the graveyard seemed too still now, the evergreen trees surrounding them too large and ominous. The rare owl sailing across the night sky overhead seemed like a harbinger of bad news.

“So how do you even go about getting a Big Name Status that allows you an angel sidekick?” Charlie asked, breaking the companionable silence. Dean glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I want one. He’s awesome.”

“Cas is a special case. Most of his siblings are complete dicks, in fact, we just got finished fighting a war against.”

Garth was still in an unconscious heap off to the side as they continued to watch the angel while Cas removed his trench coat, then jacket, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeve to expose his forearm. He neatly sliced open his arm and began drawing sigils on the massive angel statue that stood watch in the center of the grave yard. Dean observed the angel intently, shivering as the wind cooled the sheen of sweat covering his skin. Castiel drew and wrote to a purpose only he knew, the bloody scrawls lighting up as one when finished, turning from blood red to gold in an instant and sinking into the marble stone, the eyes of the stone angel flashing with that same light, and Dean swore he saw he wings flutter.

“All seriousness, though,” Charlie began again. “He’s pretty cool.”

Dean was silent for a moment, watching as Cas grabbed up his trench coat and slid into it with a flourish, before stalking purposefully back their way. The moon illuminated his face, his eyes piercing even in the half light, with his angel sword gleaming by his side. Something warm pooled inside Dean at the sight.

“Yeah, he is,” he admitted, with more feeling than he expected.

There was movement in the grass and Garth sat up, the two people on the bench turning to regard him. He shook his head, blinking, and looking around before his gaze found them. “What’d I miss?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of breakfast was what roused Dean from sleep, hand rubbing at his face and cracking an eye open to cautiously peer around him, disoriented at first to not be in his and Lisa’s bedroom. Blearily, he blinked in confusion at the room, trying to get his sleep addled brain to make sense of it. His inspected stuttered to a halt when his eyes landed on Castiel sitting in the chair with a book and a curious head tilt.

“Good morning,” greeted the angel.

Oh. Right. He groaned and sat up, craning his neck until it popped, then pushed to his feet and staggered toward the kitchen and coffee, absently giving Cas’ shoulder a pat on the way by and mumbling what could be interpreted as a greeting.

Dean did a double-take when he looked out the window and saw the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Oh hell no! Why am I up if the sun isn’t? Why are  _any_  of us awake at this God forsaken hour?” He looked around desperately for the clock as though it had betrayed him, groaning when he saw it.  “Oh this is for the birds,” he decided, turning sharply on his heel, all thoughts of coffee and breakfast forgotten. “I’ve been out of a game a minute, so I need more than four hours of sleep.”

Castiel intercepted him as the hunter made his way back to the couch, fully planning to face plant on it. The angel smoothly grabbed him by the elbow and used his forward momentum to hook him in the direction of the stairs, one hand shoving Dean between the shoulder blades, while the blond gave him an incredulous look.

“You need a shower and for your clothes to be added to the wash. You may have forgotten, but you are covered in a fair amount of questionable organic material. There will be coffee and food when you get out, and you will thank me later.”

Mouth opening to speak, Dean shut if firmly when Castiel continued to stand in the way between Dean and the couch he very much wanted to reacquaint himself with, part of his mind wondering that if he did try to shove past Cas and get some more sleep, shower be damned, if the angel would just teleport him fully dressed into an ice cold shower.

Something of this thought must have shown on his face, because the corner of the angel’s mouth curled in the barest hint of a smirk, one brow arching in challenge. And yeah, no, Dean did not have enough functioning brain cells at the moment to play that game with Cas.

He made his way upstairs, ignoring the sense of smug victory he felt coming from the man behind him. It was probably his imagination anyway.

As the shower coaxed his brain to wakefulness, Dean thought back to Lisa, trying to find any sense of remorse or second-guessing his decision to leave. He’d thought that maybe after his first hunt back on the job, he would realize that ‘no, if given any actual choice in the matter, the hunter life was not the one he wanted’, but the feeling never came. Now did he want this forever?  To live and die by the hunt? He didn’t want that either, no one in their right mind did.

He wanted the house, the stability of a home base like they got with Bobby’s, but he couldn’t see completely walking away from this life of hunting either, at least, not with Lisa, maybe not at all. There had to be some way, some…  _balance_  to be obtained.

Finished with his shower, he dressed and bounded downstairs and then down to the basement, throwing his clothes in the washer with a heap of detergent. It was when he made his way to the ground floor again that Dean frowned, glancing around. Cas was sitting at the table with Bobby, going over the night-before’s hunt and Garth’s logic defying ability to stay alive while so hapless.

“Where’s Sam?” questioned Dean, making his way into the kitchen to fix himself a plate of food and a cup of coffee. He took the available seat next to Cas and sat down.

Bobby was dragging a piece of toast through the last of his grits and butter. “He’s doing his morning workout with Sarah. They do it every day this time of day .”

Dean nodded, noticing the way Cas’ gaze had drifted to the untouched cup of coffee by the hunter’s hand. He straightened, gesturing to the steaming mug.

“You wanna try it?”

The angel blinked. “Wha-? Oh, no, I was just-“

Dean waved him off, sliding the cup across the wooden surface with his hand. “Try it. We can add more cream and sugar if it’s too bitter for you.” He considered his friend for a moment. “I get the feeling angels have a penchant for sweet.”

Cautiously, Cas picked up the cup, frowning at it for a moment, then glanced warily at the two men watching him with mild curiosity, as if suspecting a trap. He took a tentative sip, blinking for a moment, then wrinkled his nose and moved to hand the cup back. Dean laughed and rose, bringing over the pot, another cup for himself, along with the cream and sugar. He plopped back down, scooping another spoonful of granules into the cup and some more cream, lightening the color to almost blonde, before stirring it and handing it back to the angel.

“Try it again.” The angel obeyed, this time pursing his lips. Dean added another scoop of sugar and gave it a stir without asking, grinning when the man beside him nodded his approval and continued to sip from the cup. “Dirty blonde and sweet. Good choice.” He glanced back at the older hunter as he stole a piece of bacon off of Dean’s plate. “You two find anything while we were gone last night?”

A shrug. “Sam found a few things he’ll be looking into further today. Found a psychic in a town where weird stuff is going down and people keep dying.”

“We’re looking for a prophet, Bobby. Small, scrawny, tends to look like a nervous dog about to wet the paper? Ringing any bells?”

“A psychic might go a long way in helping with that, doncha think? Or might even be a prophet herself.” Dean shut his mouth. “Either way, we can start sending Sam out in the field-“

“Oh hell no!” snapped Dean. “I already told him-“

“Wearing a suit and flashing a badge ain’t the same as decapitating an army of the undead, boy,” Bobby groused, giving him a look. “He goes.” Dean’s teeth clacked as he slammed his jaw shut and clenched his teeth. Bobby continued, “Like I keep saying, you boys need as much good PR as we can muster. Especially Sam. I’d have you saving kittens and kissing babies if I thought it would work. If she’s the real deal, maybe she can help us find Chuck.”

“And if she’s not the real deal?”

“You find out if she’s responsible for the deaths and put her down.”

 “I’ll come along and see if there are any signs of demonic activity,” offered Castiel. “It could very well be a witch, I which case we may need to worry about the backing demon as well.”

The hunter beside him groaned, chasing the last of his breakfast around his plate with a corner of toast. “Man,” he sighed heavily. “I friggin hate witches. Thanks for bringing that up, Cas.”

“You are welcome, Dean.” The angel poured himself the last of the coffee, while Dean idly wondered if there was any risk of Cas ending up hyper from the caffeine and what in the world that would look like.

Bobby smirked and stood to go start another pot of coffee.

~*~

            The harried waitress that had been an eye witness in the death of the most recent victim directed them to Gabriella as the resident psychic nearly half the town seemed to revere… or fear. After a couple of hours asking questions around town and at the coroner’s, Dean and Sam were standing on the sidewalk in front a small Victorian style house on the edge of town, it’s yellow paint and open-curtain windows inviting as they regarded it skeptically.

Sam double-checked the address while Dean glanced around for any signs of Cas. The daisies lining the walkway to the front door weren’t exactly screaming malevolent forces in Dean’s opinion though, so he doubted the angel was anywhere close by.

            “What do you think, Sam?”

            His brother sighed and put the pad away in his jacket pocket. “This is the place. I mean, there’s even a sign.”

            Dean eyed the wood burn sign hanging above the stairs.  _Welcome to Gabbie’s._  It better befit a B&B than a psychic, but it was less over the top and cliché than a fortuneteller could be. He shifted his weight and coughed lightly, glancing once back at where he’d parked the Impala by the curb.

            “And we just, what? Go in and ask for an appointment?”

            Narrowing his eyes, Sam considered the house in front of them, trying to see beyond the surface. “Well, if she’s a psychic like Missouri, she’ll know why we’re here. If she doesn’t, then she’s a fake and quiet possibly responsible for what’s been going on around town.”

            His brother turned his head to regard him. “That’s it?”

            “In ascertaining what we’re dealing with?” Sam snapped back. “Yes, Dean, that’s it. Once we find out _what_ she is, well, then we come up with a new plan on how to deal with it.”

            “Well okay then,” his brother said, striding forward, leaving Sam making an irritated expression at his back before hurrying to match his gait.

            Knocking on the front door got them no answer, just caused the unlocked door to swing open on silent hinges. They both drew their weapons, Dean signaling to his brother and taking point, while his brother nodded and fell in step behind him. Gun raised and at the ready, Dean carefully scanned the living room, feeling Sam at his back doing the same for the breakfast area and doorway into the kitchen. The door in the living room mostly likely went to a bedroom, or perhaps the entire first floor had a connected layout. A narrow set of stairs went up to a second floor.

            He met his brother’s gaze, gesturing with two fingers that Sam go one way while Dean went the other, and they cover the ground floor first. Sam nodded.

            “That’s not necessary,” a voice interrupted, causing both guns to swivel and train in on the speaker. A petite blonde with wavy hair was leaning casually against the door leading from the living room, her arms folded across her chest. “I was beginning to wonder when you two would show up.”

            “ _Cristo_ ,” muttered Dean, not lowering his gun. She arched a brow, expression belying ‘Really? Are you kidding me?’ He cleared his throat. “Are you Gabriella?”

            “I better be,” she said, and Dean swore the light and shadows seemed to shift around her, perhaps it was just the light reflecting off a car passing by outside.

            Neither man relaxed their posture. “Your door was unlocked and open.”

            “Because I was expecting you.” She let her gaze fall to the weapons still trained on her. “I’m not a demon and I’m not a burglar,” she told him, lips curling upward in an amused smirk Dean found vaguely familiar and couldn’t place. “Put your weapons down.”

            Both brothers slowly put away their weapon, Dean with far less ease than his brother. The muscles in his jaw clenched and flexed, fingers twitching with the desire to still be holding his gun.

Everything about this seemed just off enough to make him nervous, and he would have felt better with the familiar weight in his hands. Sam shot him a look, clearly seeing where Dean’s thoughts were going. Strategically, Sam placed himself between the woman and his brother. Smiling in a self-deprecating manner, he glanced down and then at the girl across from them, almost seeming embarrassed. Dean really thought he’d have made a better actor than a lawyer.

“You said you were expecting us?” She nodded. “T-that’s what we heard. I-I mean, that you’ve got a gift for seeing things before they happen. It’s why we’re here.”

There was a slight smirk on her face, the corner of her mouth barely curving upward in amusement in a way she probably wasn’t even aware of. The smirk grew more obvious and Dean realized she was amused, at what, he had no idea, but he was increasingly ready to leave.

“What’s so important it’s brought the legendary Winchesters to my door?”

Both brothers stiffened. Saying she was expecting them and then calling them by their real names was two very different things. If she had caught wind of them asking around town, she should have been expecting Agents Frye and Saucier. Dean let his gaze rake over her again, assessing the situation.

To an outsider, if anyone ought to feel uncomfortable or threatened, it should be Gabriella. She was barely five-feet-tall, petite, with hazel eyes, and a crooked smile, cad in ripped jeans and white novelty shirt with gray and black striped sleeves. By all appearances, she just looked like a regular girl, save for the way Dean swore he thought he saw gold glint in her eyes when she smirked and the light and shadows didn’t seem to settle on her just right.

He glanced at his brother to find Sam frowning in the way he did when he was trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. Dean wondered if Sam could feel the power rolling off the girl as well, the way it tickled at the back of Dean’s mind with its familiarity.

She pushed off the door frame and sauntered a few steps closer, her eyes

flicking back and forth between them as she placed a finger to her lips, tapping it contemplatively. “Let me guess… you must be Dean.” Her gaze shifted to the taller hunter. “Which makes you Sam.” She grinned. “I’m Gabriella,” she offered. “Gabbie, if you like.”

Dean found himself studying her, eyes trailing over every aspect of her face, trying to place why she seemed so familiar. The answer felt right at the edge of his mind, elusive and intangible. A prophet she wasn’t, but there was a very real chance she was a god. Problem was: which one?

“How can I help you crazy kids?” she wondered

“You’re the psychic,” said Dean, finding his voice. It came out gruffer than he meant. “Shouldn’t you know?”

 “Dean,” hissed his younger brother, glaring furiously. Dean rolled his eyes and snorted as his brother took over. “Please forgive my brother,” Sam said appeasingly, even though she didn’t  _look_  angry.  “We actually came here because a friend of ours has gone missing. You were the closest shot in the dark we have.”

She met his gaze without blinking. “Chuck Shirley. Prophet of the Lord and author of the  _Supernatural_  books under the name Carver Edlund, correct?” They looked at each other in silent question, and she shrugged, hands sliding into her pockets. “You were thinking it. Kinda loudly.”

And, yeah… having your mind read would never be less than disconcerting, making Dean more on edge than he already was, feeling naked and vulnerable with some, as of yet, unidentified entity.

 “Well then, can you or can you not help us in finding him?” he snapped.

A feral grin stretched across her features and Dean knew it wasn’t his imagination this time when the shadows in the room shifted, and gold flitted across her eyes. “Oh, but that’s not all you want to ask me, is it?” Her teeth were bright and sharp. “You want to know if I’m the one handing out fortunes around town and making them come due.”

Sam cleared his throat, hand coming up to smooth over the front of his tie and shirt, and then over his slacks, a disguised reach for his gun. “Uh, well, there was that, too,” he admitted.

“It’s my job,” she said. “The one I was tasked with. The one I was born to take over. I reward the deserving, like Rhonda and her volunteer work at the shelter. And I strike down the wicked who have gone unpunished, like Daryl and John.”

Her tone had taken on a chill, her smile razor sharp, and God that voice at the back of Dean’s mind was nagging him that he knew this particular poisonous snake.

“You don’t have the right to make those calls,” Sam told her reasonably, and her expression softened, eyes landing on him.

 “Being a Reaper isn’t a pretty job either, but you can’t accuse them of doing something wrong when they, too, are just doing their jobs.”

“So you’re receiving orders?” demanded Dean.

She canted her head to the side, lips pursed. “It isn’t quite like that. It’s just a knowing. My actions are always a reaction to theirs. They come to me wanting to know what their future holds, that is what frees me to do my job regarding their past. I have my role in keeping the balance of the world, just as you have yours in beating back the things that prey on humanity.”

“But who and what are you?” Dean pressed.

That same enigmatic smile stretched across her face. “I can help you find your Prophet, or at least, look for him,” she said, changing the subject. Her gaze trailed to Sam. “But if I do, what’s in it for me?”

“Beg pardon?”

She shifted, hands falling to rest at her hips. “Balance, Sam. Everything is about balance. I cannot do a task without something being freely offered first. Were I to do it, I would require a sort of compensation.”

“Oh, I’ll compensate you alright,” growled the elder Winchester. Sam swatted at him furiously, making Gabbie grin in delight.

“What would be the cost for your help?” Sam questioned earnestly.

“Sam!”

“It’s very important we find our friend, and frankly, he doesn’t have anyone else,” admitted the taller male, “so if  _we_  don’t find him, no one else is even going to look. We  _need_  your help.”

She watched him for a moment, that same contemplative expression on her face as she regarded him.  She was enjoying riling Dean, but it was like she really did already have a soft spot for Sam. Why was that so familiar?

Gabbie frowned, folding her arms and shifting her weight to her back foot. “I have no interest in going on a hunt across the world looking for one misplaced Prophet when I have plenty of other work to tend to.” She paused, hazel eyes drifting over both hunters in cheap suits and fake personas. Then a slow smile crept across her face, her eyes lighting up. “To balance the scales, one of you will have to be equally inconvenienced until the time comes that I have completed my task. Who will it be?”

“Me,” they said in unison, before glaring at each other, Dean’s hackles rising as the power in the room started to swell and Gabriella’s eyes began to glow a steady gold, her hair wafting gently around her shoulders as though ruffled by a breeze.

“Sam, no,” growled Dean, one hand snaking out to dig into his little brother’s arm and shove him back.

The other man yanked out of his grip. “Dean, she said ‘inconvenienced’ not ‘dead’ and it’ll be temporary, just until she fulfills her end of the bargain, right?” he asked, turning his head toward her as the wind in the room swept up and now blew his own hair around.

“Oh  _yes_ ,” she purred, grinned stretched across her face and hands splayed out by her sides.

Sam stepped forward again. “Then I volunteer.”

“The hell you do,” roared Dean, shoving his way forward and forcibly holding Sam back. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay the price.”

“Dean, no!”

An inhuman chuckle escaped her, like voices overlapping as a Cheshire grin stretched slowly across her face and full gold eyes regarded them. “Oh this is gonna be  _SO_  much fun.”

At her side, her fingers snapped with a crack like a gun shot and the house began to tremble violently. Things shuddered off their shelves and crashed to the ground. Plaster cracked and fell from the ceiling. The brothers looked around frantically, trying to steady themselves as the earth shook fiercely beneath them, before looking demandingly at Gabbie

“You’re offering, freely given, is  _accepted_ ,” she hissed, splaying out a hand toward Dean.

In that instant, it was like a bomb went off and they were at Ground Zero. Both brothers went flying backwards through the air, Dean crashing through a bookcase partition and landing hard in the dining room amidst broken wood and plaster. He lay there unconscious, even as part of the ceiling fell in.

Sam struggled to his feet from where he had crashed into the wooden table and then over onto the floor. The floorboards swelled and fell like the rolling sea beneath his feet, the house falling down around his ears with deafening noise, support beams crashed through the ceiling. One landed dangerously close to the crumpled and plaster covered form of Dean, his body already partially obscured.

Gabbie had vanished, her laughter still ringing in the air as her home collapsed in on itself. Sam swore violently under his breath, arms over his head and wood and plastered fell.

“Dean!” he yelled, finally close enough to start shoving away the debris covering his brother.

The sight of the other man stopped him short, all air leaving his body.  With an ear deafening noise, a crack ripped down the middle of the house, prompting Sam to action again. He dropped down to lift Dean’s dead weight, shouldering a beam aside. The rafter he pushed aside prompted half the roof to cave in and Sam barely rolled them out of harm’s way, coughing and choking as dust and plaster filled the air and suffocated his lungs. He tried to use his bulk to shield his brother’s body from more falling structure. “Cas!” he croaked. “Cas! Get us out of here!”

Several seconds stretched like minutes; Sam tried in vain to shove away the debris around him, the beam that had fallen across his back and obstructed him rising, relief flooding over him as black shoes stepped into view. He angled his head in time to see two fingers press against his temple.

Then suddenly, they were outside, soft grass under Sam’s hands and clean air filling his lungs. He rolled away from his brother, coughing harshly and trying desperately to get a good breath of air. White dust fell from his hair and made his eyes water.

He coughed, looking up and around. They were in the lot next to the now destroyed house, the shattered frame jutting out like a ruptured rib cage. Gabbie was nowhere in sight. “She nearly killed us!” He snapped his attention back to his brother, noting the way Cas just stood over him, shocked and alarmed, unable to move.

Cupping Dean’s face in his hands, Sam quickly glanced him over for injuries. He felt his brother’s pulse, then delved gentle fingers into Dean’s hair, cradling his head and checking for a knot or gash. He had to have hit his head pretty hard to still be out.

“Sam,” Cas said softly.

The hunter sat back, frowning at the image in front of him at a loss. “Yeah?”

“What happened?” Sam could only shake his head. “Why is he like this?”

‘This’ was something even Sam would have never believed had he not seen it for himself. Dean was going to be furious. Bobby, too, probably.

“Sam?”

He turned, angling his head to look up at the distressed angel. He knew Cas was hoping Sam would have some sort of explanation for the current situation, but hell if he knew what happened and he’d been there.

Pushing himself to a crouch, Sam scooped his brother into his arms with far more ease than normal and stood.

“We have to get out of here,” he told Castiel, trying to snap the angel out of his shock. Blue eyes riveted to his. “Before cops and firefighters show up.”

            The shorter man nodded, glancing back once at the ruined structure before his gaze drifted to the unconscious form in Sam’s arms.

            “He’s a girl.”

            The words made Sam flinch, but he nodded, glancing down at his brother. Dirty blonde hair fell thickly, coated in the same white dust that covered them both, his suit now swallowing him awkwardly like the clothes belonged to someone else. He somehow looked younger like this.

            Exhaustion swept through Sam and he sighed heavily. “I know. We’ll… it’s a long story. We have to get him back to Bobby’s.” He shifted his gaze past the angel to the Impala still parked at the curb. “Bright side is that at least his car is safe. Let’s count our blessings on this one.”

            Cas opened the car door for him, and Sam got Dean settled in the back seat, laying him out with his jacket folded carefully under his head like a pillow. His brother didn’t so much move while he was carried and maneuvered. Twisted around in the passenger seat, Cas looked on with a worried expression.

            “I should have gone with you,” he said as Sam got in the driver’s seat. “Perhaps I could have prevented this.”

            Cranking the car, Sam shot him a look. “This is not your fault, Cas. Hell, I was there and it wasn’t  _my_ fault.” He glanced back at his brother’s sleeping form, before shifting his gaze out the windshield with a shake of his head as they pulled out into the road. “This is freaking insane. Even for us.” He sighed, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could keep an eye on his brother. “Well. He wanted back into the hunter life. Welcome home, Dean.”

 

~*~

            “We ran into a slight complication,” Sam said when Bobby opened the door, frowning at the sight of the girl in the younger hunter’s arms.

            The older man stepped out of the way with a sweep of his arm. Sam quickly entered, shifting his brother a little. Cas was close on his heels, brows knitting together.

This was probably the most anxious Sam had ever seen the angel.

World was ending? He was stoic and unflappable.

Dean has a run-in with a witch or goddess or what-the-hell-ever that leaves him, uh… a little different and unconscious, and suddenly the angel was taking the role of Guardian Angel _very_ serious.

            Sighing, Sam easily crossed into Bobby’s living room, carefully laying Dean out on the couch, before straightening to regard him. His long blonde hair was splayed across the cushion, his features soft in sleep. And god, he looked small and fragile like this, with his clothes no longer fitting him like they should.

            The older hunter came to stand beside him, gazing down at the blonde as well. “Who’s the girl? She the psychic or something?”

            “She’s Dean,” said Cas, voicing what Sam wasn’t quite able. God, how had he let his brother agree when they didn’t even know the terms of the agreement yet?

            Bobby’s eyes snapped back to Dean, raking over his face that was still the same even while different. Freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose, dirty blonde hair with highlights from being out in the sun to work on the Impala, same long, dark lashes Sam had once teased him about.

The older hunter gave a low whistle, reaching up to adjust his cap. “Boy, you got yourself more than a slight complication. That’s supernova. The hell happened?”

Cas was quick to place his neck on the chopping block. “This is my fault. I was not with them. Had I been-“

“ _Cas_ ,” snapped Sam impatiently, “like I told you in the car, this is not your fault. I was there and it wasn’t my fault. She offered us a deal-“

“And ya took it?!” demanded Bobby, glaring. “Boy, haven’t you two numbskulls learned by now never to make deals?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam moved into the kitchen. He needed a beer. He probably needed more than one. “Look, it wasn’t like that. She said she could help search for Chuck, but that she didn’t want to, that she had other work she needed to be doing. She said it would be an inconvenience to her to help us.” He sighed heavily, taking a long pull on his beer, gaze drifting to where his brother lay. “She said the price for her help would be for one of us to be equally inconvenienced.” He faltered. “I volunteered, but Dean wouldn’t have it.”

“ _Idjits_!” barked Bobby, making Sam flinch and drop his gaze.

“How long will he be like this?” Cas questioned, his eyes drifting from the slumbering form to the two hunters. “And when will he wake up?”

“Please tell me you at least found that out before your idiot brother agreed to this.”

The other hunter nodded. “It’s temporary. It ends when she fulfills her end of the bargain. He has to be inconvenienced for as long as she is. And I don’t have a clue when he’ll wake. I guess that’s part of whatever she did, it wiped him out.”

Swearing under his breath, Bobby moved over to his desk, shaking his head and searching for the flask of whiskey he kept there.

Leaning against the doorframe, Sam regarded his older brother, jaw jutting to the side as he ran the different scenarios through his head of how his brother might react upon waking. Anger was the most likely initial reaction. Swearing and raging like only Dean could. Then when that passed and Dean realized there was nothing they could do to change the situation without breaking the deal… what then? He honestly didn’t know, and that worried him.

His gaze shifted to Castiel, the angel looking almost pained as he regarded his unconscious friend.

“Cas?” The heavenly being in a man’s skin looked up, and Sam wondered how he could look so utterly human at times. “You okay?”

Blue eyes fell back to the blonde, shoulders sagging slightly. “It’s just… he’s been here two days.”

Another wave of guilt; Sam swallowed, gaze dropping to examine the toes of his black shoes. “…Yeah,” he said softly.

Sucking in a deep breath, he turned and made his way upstairs to change into his normal clothes again, trying to shove away the nagging voice in the back of his head whispering that Dean ought to be living a normal happy life somewhere safe, not tangled up in all this bullshit once again.

~*~

The throbbing of his head was what woke him up, his entire body aching and feeling off, then horrible, rolling nausea, making him groan, curling in on himself and regretting it as his stomach objected fiercely.

“Dean?”

The couch was familiar beneath him, the worn material a comfort beneath his hands as he shoved his upper half up, eyes still screwed shut.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he croaked and then immediately was.

He was violently sick, grateful for the trashcan that seemed to materialize before him right as the first wave hit, his hands gripping the sides of it as he retched, his whole body spasming with it. He was only vaguely aware of people moving around the room, of someone sitting down beside him, of a large, comforting hand between his shoulder blades as his stomach continued to purge itself over and over of everything he’d eaten that day.

He continued to retch until there was nothing left except internal organs inside him, and his body seemed to truly be contemplating making him force those up, and frankly, Dean had had quite enough of that particular experience in Hell, thank you very much. He was not repeating it while Top Side.

The thumb of the hand on his back was gently rubbing back and forth as Dean continued to violently dry heave and apparently find more things to purge itself of, the muscles in his stomach hurt with the force of it. The comfort being offered made him think of his mother, remembering the way she had done the same thing when he’d been sick as a child. The memory was possibly more comforting and achingly painful than anything at that moment.

The worst of it having subsided, Dean slowly began to take in other details around him. His hands gripped the trashcan tight enough his knuckles were bone white. A wet wash clothe was held out to him, and God, it felt blessedly cool against his skin as he wiped it across his mouth, hands trembling.

“Dean?” a voice asked. Not the one from earlier.

He lifted his bleary gaze, watching as the forms of Bobby and Sam swayed and tilted. He tried to place context with whatever he’d woken up to and his brain was like wet cotton.

“What the hell happened?” he slurred, voice rough and weak sounding.

The hand that had been on his back left and he instantly missed it, but then it was on his forehead, before sweeping over his hair in a pet, just like his mother use to do as well. His arms were shaking in the effort to keep himself held up, and he slumped back to the side so he was laying on the couch again.

“He’s burning up,” a nearby voice stated, a low rumble of sound. Dean rolled his head around to find the speaker, seeing that it was Castiel sitting on the couch beside him.

Bobby and Sam both swore and bolted in different directions from the room, his brother doing an awkward shuffle as his stopped and skidded back into the room. “Cas, can you do something?”

“The magic must run its course, it’s too complicated for me to even attempt helping him right now.”

“Fuck!” hissed Sam before he vanished down the hall.

His eyelids kept drooping shut, and Dean struggled to keep them open. “The hell happened?” he asked again, picking a spot to focus on in order to keep his eyes awake.

Cas was watching him with a weary expression, so Dean focused on him, though it was like looking through a film of water. “You’ll be fine, Dean. You just need rest.”

Another blessedly cool washcloth was brought and placed over his forehead and he sighed in relief, even while suddenly registering that he was bitterly cold. He curled his arms to his chest, his teeth chattering.

“But what happened?” he pressed. “Why do I feel like this?” Because while he had no idea what was going on, some part of his cotton filled brain was informing him that this was not a normal sickness, that something was _wrong_ \- wrong with _him_ and his body was trying to reject it. “Everything hurts,” he admitted, because, God, it did. His muscles, his bones, everything.

The angel reached out to cover Dean’s clutched hands with one of his own, and since when were Cas’ hands so much bigger than his that he could cover them like that?

“We’ll explain when you are better.”

Sam came skidding in to the room, fist curled around a small white bottle held up in triumph. “I’ve got it!”

Dean was too miserable and tired and in pain to fight them as they pulled him into a sitting position, he was trying too hard to stop seeing double and triple of the people around him while being handed a series of pills and a glass of water and a voice ordering him to take them, watching as he lifted shaking hands to take to pills two at a time and put them in his mouth. He had to be delirious with fever because his hand didn’t look like his.

It had been a long time since he’d been this sick. He vaguely remembered being in a cheap motel room with dim lights, Dad checking on him and sitting in a chair by his bed as he cleaned weapons and wrote in his journal. He remembered Sammy peering at him over the edge of the mattress with wide, frightened eyes, asking if Dean needed to go to the hospital. He remebered their Dad saying no, even though the look on his face was doubtful. Sam had cried and asked if Dean was going to die, and John had patted him on the head and told him no again, to go finish working on writing his sentences and not worry.

Darkness pulled him in and Dean slept.

~*~

            Wakefulness slowly crept over Dean’s mind, making him draw in a breath and sigh, trying to sink further into sleep again, his body relaxed against his bed as though willing the sleep to come back. He had the strange sensation his sleep had started out bad, but then ended up being very good and he wanted to get back to it.

            But no. His brain refused to cooperate, and also, it was bright, which meant the sun was up, and there were people talking- in low, hushed whispers, sure, but they were still talking- and finally Dean gave up trying to sleep and slowly peeled his eyes open and released a jaw popping yawn. His eyes felt like sandpaper as he blinked in the too bright light.

            The room fell silent. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he raised his arms and stretched, nearly wincing at how sore his stomach felt, how sore and stiff everything felt. What the hell? When had he gotten his ass kicked? How? Sucking in a breath, he let his arms fall to his lap, blinking at the people in Bobby’s living room with him, his brain trying to kickstart itself to wakefulness. Sam, Bobby, and Cas were all watching him like they were waiting for him to explode.

            He eyed them warily. “What’s wrong?” he asked, then frowned at the sound and taste in his mouth before he cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s… the hell’s wrong with my voice and what died in my mouth?”

            Bobby and Castiel both looked at Sam. Sam, who was looking decidedly nervous and guilty. Dean narrowed his eyes on his brother. “What did you do, Sam?” The growl didn’t have the usual depth to it, but it still made his baby brother flinch, which was good.

            “What do you remember?” Dean was pretty sure that was Sam’s attempt at stalling, and from the way Bobby rolled his eyes and wandered off into the kitchen, the older man agreed.

            The elder Winchester indulged him though, thinking for a moment, he tried to reconstruct the day in his head. The pieces were fuzzy and fractured, like a dream he couldn’t remember.

            Sighing, he reached up to scratch his head in irritation. “I dunno, Sam, I-“

            He looked at his hand. Except… it couldn’t be his hand, because it _wasn’t_ his hand. He turned it over, examining the palm, the familiar calluses, turned it over again, recognizing the scars there. Green eyes trailed from the hand to the suit and shirt sleeve that were too big on his arm, down to the chest that was swallowed by the same too large suit, and as he looked, yet couldn’t comprehend… a lock of blonde fell free and suddenly things fell into horrible, _horrific_ place.

            Dean’s head snapped up, blood draining from his face and eyes huge with fear. Sam gave  him a look Dean couldn’t quite understand, the same look he use to give Dean when he was a kid and would accidentally break something and was terrified Dean was about to rip him a new one, or worse, tell their Dad. He also looked so apologetic Dean wanted to forgive him without even knowing what he’d done, but then he remembered this-whatever this was- wasn’t Sam’s fault.

            Jumping up from the couch and scrambling to stand, Dean nearly tripped over pant legs that covered his feet and pooled on the floor. It was only the strong arm that grabbed him around the stomach and the hand on his shoulder that kept him from sprawling face first on the ground. He found himself looking at the person that caught him, looking at Cas, and it was so many levels of wrong because Castiel was _taller_ than Dean in that moment, and he could feel his mouth fall open in horror.

            He shoved away from the seraph. “I need a mirror.”

            He dashed to the downstairs bathroom, grabbed onto the door frame and slammed on the light to… just _stare_. A girl stared back. A girl with his eyes and hair color and wearing his suit. Her clothes looked almost comically too large, but there was nothing comical about the panic in her expression. His hand fell away from the light switch, raising it to touch his cheek, slim fingers smoothing over the freckles on his nose and cheeks. He watched as she mirrored his every action.

            “Oh this cannot be happening,” he said with a groan of dismay, watching as her full lips form the words, her voice in his ears. The voice was the same, but different, softer and somehow horrific. He shook his head in disbelief, looking down at his hands again, the way the sleeves left only his fingers visible. He examined his chest, deft fingers coming up then loosen the tie and unbutton his collar before pulling it away to see…

“SON. OF. A. _BITCH_!”

            The three men in the other room all winced.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You put me back together once, Cas,” Dean reminded him gently. “Piece of cake to do it a second time.”  
> The angel made a noncommittal noise, lifting his hands and carding them through the blonde’s hair, letting his thumbs rest against the hunter’s temple.  
> “Vulcan mind meld, Cas? Are you sure now’s the best time?”  
> “Why do you insist on making references you know I do not understand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: You will note that while Dean has undergone a gender change, he is still Dean and he and the others still identify him as male, so the male pronoun is used the most. If they are referring to him to strangers who don’t know Dean though, that is when they use a female pronoun. Dean is still Dean, though. Also, he’s going to be like this a while.
> 
> AN2: There is also Japanese in this chapter, with translations at the bottom, but they are pretty simple and it’s one short part.

Chapter 5

They let Dean rage for a good while, the hunter pacing back and forth across Bobby’s living room. He’d had to tighten as belt as much as it would go to keep his pants from falling off. They were currently waiting on Sarah to arrive and letting Dean work through the last of his fury before civilized company made an appearance.

            Despite Dean’s upset at his current situation, now that the younger hunter was no longer trying to expel his organs through his mouth, Bobby took no issue with ripping him a new one for one, making a deal with anybody or anything, and two, for not knowing the terms of that deal before he just agreed to it.

            “Maybe now you two idjits will look before you leap!” he snapped, earning a fierce glare for it.

            Cas seemed less concerned with Dean’s recent change and more worried about the very real threat of the hunter falling out on the floor. “Dean,” he tried, expression torn between concern and impatience. “You were very violently ill earlier. Please sit down. You are not steady on your feet-“

            “It’s because I keep tripping on these pant legs!” Dean snapped, causing Castiel to give him a flat look. The angel had asked nicely; the next step would be forcefully shoving Dean backwards to sit on the couch. The hunter seemed to realize this, lips pinching. Pivoting, he moved over to the desk and hopped up to sit on its surface, his feet not actually touching the ground. He splayed his hands. “Happy?” he demanded, arching a brow in challenge.

            The angel glared back at him until Dean backed down, turning his attention to Bobby again. “She said the price was to be equally inconvenienced, Bobby. We were sending her on a search for someone that could be anywhere on the planet and that is kind of invaluable. I figured we’d be doing the same for her, retrieving some artifact or something she couldn’t go after herself for whatever reason. I figured we’d be breaking into a museum and pulling a Mission Impossible. I did not think I’d end up becoming the little sister we never had!”

            Sighing, Sam handed the pack of crackers and ginger ale he’d retrieved from the kitchen to Dean. “Eat something, Dean, or you are going to faint in pubic and I will have full mocking rights, so don’t argue.”

            The elder Winchester accepted them begrudgingly, biting one square wafer viciously in half before starting and practically beginning to inhale them and the ginger ale, until Castiel intervened with swift hands, physically taking them and holding them out of the blond’s reach.

            “Don’t eat them so fast,” warned the angel. “You’ll get sick again.”

            “I’m _hungry_ ,” argued the hunter.

            Castiel turned questioning eyes to the other men. “Given that this was not a normal human sickness, would he be able to consume something a little more filling? I understand soup is considered typical in these circumstances?”

            The angel’s efforts to look after him made Dean duck his head and bite back a smile of amusement and affection. The attempt was wasted, as Dean had been through worse, but that Cas was _trying_ made warmth spread through his chest, a smile passing over his lips despite his efforts.

            Adjusting his cap to scratch his forehead, Bobby lumbered into the kitchen, his footfalls loud on the hardwood. “I’ll see what we’ve got.” No sooner was he in the kitchen then one of the phones rang, and he was taking notes while trying to heat soup for Dean.

            The elder Winchester shook his head, ridding himself of his pleased expression before he leaned forward to try and grab the packet of crackers from Castiel’s fingers, only to have the angel hold them even further away and offer him the ginger ale instead. “Drink it _slowly_ ,” he emphasized.

            The blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m _fine_ , you guys.”

His brother shook his head, trying impress upon Dean the severity of his words with his expression, “No, Dean, you _really_ weren’t.” His brother faltered, drink partially to his lips. “When you stopped throwing up food? You started vomiting _blood_ , so much so I have no idea where it was coming from or how you didn’t bleed to death. _Then_? Then you were delirious with fever and kept calling for _Mom and Dad_. Cas’s mojo couldn’t do anything, so the hospitals definitely wouldn’t be any help, and the next step was dumping you in an _ice bath_ to get the fever down and keep your _brain_ from _frying_ , Dean. We think it was only the magic of the spell itself that kept you from dying. You scared all of us and there was nothing we could do but sit around and watch you suffer and possibly die.”

            Dropping his eyes, Dean kept his gaze locked on the drink in his thin fingers. “…I’m sorry.”

            Sam was shaking his head, raking fingers through his hair. “No, Bobby’s right. Granted, we did ask how long it would last and did clarify we’d only be inconvenienced not dead, but we should have made clear on the details before we agreed. I mean, shit, Dean. She could have put you in a coma, or turned you into a dog, or an amputee, or-or a _merman_ for all we know! All of these would have been _very_ inconvenient!”

            Dean winced at the thought of him with a fin. Yeah, that really would have been bad. Kinda hot, because Dean’s always hot, even as a chick, but still bad. Really, really bad.

            “Sorry,” he said again, then glared at his little brother. “But if you recall, I only insisted because you did, to keep you from being the one to pay whatever price we were agreeing to. Had you not jumped the gun so fast, we probably would have found out more of the conditions of her deal.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but the point made nonetheless.

            The taller man flinched and Cas sighed tiredly, moving to sit on the edge of the couch. “Can we stop throwing blame? What’s done it done.” They both regarded him, and his blue eyes focused on Dean. “The change is temporary, though we have no idea how long that will be. Meanwhile we still have work to do: a prophet to find, monsters acting strange cross-country, and the rumors going around that Sam is to sit on the throne as King of Hell while you rule as the King’s Hand.”

            Taking a large gulp of his drink- and earning another glare from Cas for it- Dean said, “Y’know, I could almost see where that plan is feasible, except for the part where we both rule in Hell. I’m Michael’s vessel. It would make more sense for Sam to take over Hell, me to overthrow Heaven, and then we leave Bobby to keep Earth in line and keep all three planes of existence in balance. _That_ sounds like something we would actually do- if we could.”

            A wry smirk passed over the angel’s lips. “Is that so? Where would I come into that equation?”

            Tilting his head, Dean thought about it. Stepping in and taking over Heaven as the true vessel of Michael was one thing, but Dean was not cut out to be a politician. He didn’t have the patience for it, and would probably be very petty, whereas Sam was always so reasonable, he’d make an amazing ruler.

            “You’ll probably be my right hand and advisor, Cas. We’ve always been a team anyway.”

            Before the angel could comment, a knock at the front door made them all turn, Sam quickly darting off and then reappearing a moment later with Sarah following after. She and Dean both had a moment of looking the other over from head to toe. _Damn, she looks good_ , he thought. Sarah had been pretty when they’d met her the first time, but she was absolutely gorgeous now, radiant even.

            He hopped off the desk, grinning at the female who returned the expression. “I gotta say, Sarah, you look amazing.”

            She laughed, adjusting the backpack on her shoulder. “And I gotta say, you look different than the last time I saw you. Trying a new look, Dean?” She removed the bag, waving it. “I brought you clothes so we can go shopping, but first you need a shower. Sam says you ran in to trouble on a case and then were deathly sick earlier. You look like death warmed over.”

            Frowning, Dean ran his fingers through his now long hair, grimacing at the grimy feel on his fingertips.

            Sam said, “Your fever had you sweating like I’ve never seen, Dean. Not to mention, a house fell down on us.”

            Resigned, Dean headed toward the stairs, accepting the bag Sarah held out to him as he passed. “Lemme know where you’re dressed,” she said, “I’ll show you how to dry and style your hair.” He nodded, making his way with a slow, defeated gait, hating his life at the moment.

~*~

            “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” admitted Dean, holding the shirt out in front of himself. Sam rolled his eyes as Sarah took the shirt away and replaced it on the rack, handing him another instead.

            The four of them were in the women’s department at Wal-Mart. Sam had given up trying to help find clothes for his brother, and with the way Sarah kept putting everything Dean picked up back, the older Winchester was deciding to throw in the towel as well, following Sarah as she moved, and standing still as she held something out against him, examining it with a critical eye before discarding it or adding it to the growing pile in the cart. Castiel was more people watching than anything.

            Sighing tiredly, Dean’s gaze drifted to the angel that was examining a rack of graphic tees that had writing and elaborate metallic designs on the back.

            “Hey, Cas buddy,” The angel only lifted his brows to indicate he was listening. “You don’t have to be here for this, you know.”

            “I like to observe humanity in its different settings. I’m told Wal-Mart is a necessary, yet hated evil.” He pulled out a shirt from the opposite side of the circular rack, glancing across to examine Dean, and then returned it.

            A chuckle escaped the hunter at the realization that Castiel was trying to help Sarah find him new clothes. That was so many levels of weird Dean couldn’t even comprehend or examine it. He turned back to his brother.

            “So Bobby got another phone call about monsters acting weird?”

            Sam blinked and then grew serious. “Dude. Children’s hospital calling in about some weirdo looking in the windows at the kids. Kids claim monster, of course, but adults are saying it’s a guy in a Halloween mask.” He shook his head. “We got the call because the other night during a thunderstorm, the sky lights up and a kid hits the panic button when they apparently see this guy right outside the window, right? Nurse runs in in time to see it before it jumps away from the window and vanishes.”

            Shrugging, Dean shook his head. “It could be a pedophile in a Halloween mask.”

            “The kid’s room is on the third floor.”

            “Oh.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Do we have any clues as to what it was?” questioned Castiel, pulling a shirt from a rack and then holding it up for Sarah’s approval. She nodded and added it to the stack. Dean only got a glimpse of black and silver before it disappeared under another shirt.

            Frowning slightly, Dean contemplated whether or not to inform the angel he wasn’t exactly into t-shirts with designs on them. Whatever. Let the angel feel like he was helping after what Dean had put him through that day. He could do that for the angel.

            “From the sounds of it?” began Sam. “I’m venturing a Wendingo, but the totally weird part is that it’s-“

            “Hunting in a city,” finished Dean with a nod. “And out in the open. Yeah that is not normal behavior. The hell is going on with them lately?”

            Sam shook his head, shuffling through another rack idly. “We still have no clues to that. It doesn’t appear to be connected to the cycle of the moon. Bobby thought it might have been triggered by Michael and Lucifer being in the same realm of reality for the big fight that never came to anything, and that monsters are still just sort of in panic mode, but there’s nothing to support that.”

            “Don’t suppose you’ve picked up on anything, have you Cas?” questioned Dean, glancing once more over at his friend. Their gazes met and locked, Dean once again struck with the oddity of the fact that Castiel was now almost a head taller than he was. He kept looking over at the angel, and then having to angle his head up. Meanwhile, Cas hadn’t reacted as though there were anything out of the ordinary going on.

            The seraph shook his head. “I have not sensed or heard anything, no.”

            “So we have demons out to tarnish our name and monsters throwing caution to the wind,” he said, brushing his hair away from his face with his fingers. “Must be Tuesday.”

            “It’s Wednesday, Dean,” pointed out Cas.

            The hunter rolled his eyes. “It was an expression, Cas, not literal. Meaning just a normal, boring, nothing special ever happens kind of day. Except for on Tuesdays, which in our lives are a special nightmare.”

            “Meaning ‘Welcome to a day in the life of the Winchesters,’” laughed Sam with a grin.

            Sarah took a stack of clothes from their cart and handed them to Dean, before shoving him toward the dressing room. “If your lives were ever remotely normal, you’d be bored out of your skulls and wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves.”

            Sam snorted. “The hell I wouldn’t. I’d finish getting my law degree.” 

            Shaking his head, Dean clamped his lips shut, then sighed. “Okay, well, as soon as we finish up here, we can swing by the hospital and start asking questions-“

            Both Cas and his brother looked up sharply and in alarm.

            “What?” they asked, making Dean look at them with raised brows. Sam was frowning and shaking his head. “Dean. No. You can’t. You need to at least take it easy for a day-“

            “Dude, I’m fine,” the blond argued, rolling his eyes and turning toward the changing rooms once again.

            “Dean, listen to Sam. You don’t seem to realize how sick you were,” Castiel tried, making the hunter irritated, shooting them both cross looks.

            “Guys. I’m _fine_. I feel fine. And in case you haven’t noticed, too much crap is going on for us to bench a player right now. Sooner we can get it taken care of, the less all of us have to worry about.”

            Both men turned their heads to regard the other one, communicating through significant looks and head shakes until they both sighed heavily and Dean knew he’d won.

~*~

            “God, I’m starved,” groused Dean as they left the children’s hospital with not much more information than they started with. He squinted in the bright sun light, raising a hand to shield his eyes. “Did we pass a burger place on the way here?”

            “At least go for chicken,” Sam insisted and Dean glared at him. The taller of the two glared back just as fiercely. “Seriously, Dean, you were vomiting blood twelve hours ago. I have no idea how you’re _standing_. I didn’t even want you working this case, but Bobby says we need our faces out there. Indulge me just a little and take it easy.”

            They slid into opposite sides of the Impala, the doors slamming simultaneously. Rather than agreeing to his brother’s request, Dean changed the subject as he cranked the car. “Don’t suppose you heard from Cas while you were playing with the nurses?”

            Digging his phone out of his pocket, Sam turned it back on. “Of course not. Hospital, Dean. No phones. Please tell me you turned yours off.”

            “Vibrate counts, right?” he questioned, pulling onto the main road, his gaze searching more for a place to eat rather than oncoming traffic.

            Rolling his eyes, Sam flicked through his phone for messages from either Bobby or Cas, then tucked it back into his pocket with a sigh. “No messages. What now? Do you think it is a wendingo? And if so, what is it doing in a city?”

            “Oh it definitely sounds like a wendingo, ugly mug and pointy ears included. Not to mention, peeking in the window on the third floor of a hospital. Question is: where is its lair? Being that it’s hunting in a city, we have no way to triangulate its location based on where the missing persons were last seen.  It could be nearby- or using the sewers for travel, which means it could be five miles in any direction at best. Oh bingo! Lunch time, Sammy.”

            He pulled into a burger joint with a faded red roof and hand painted sign. Once parked, Dean quickly grabbed his civilian clothes and darted inside for the bathroom, only to be seen doing a 180 and going into the opposite door while Sam laughed. Karma being what it was though, Sam supposed he had it coming when he turned back around in his seat and nearly came out of his skin at the sight of Castiel sitting across from him, forearms resting on the edge of the table and fingers laced.

            He sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, then reminded the angel, “Cas, how many times do we have to ask you not to do that? And especially not in public? You’re gonna send people into a panic.”

            “My apologies,” he said automatically, not sounding sorry at all, and causing the auburn haired male to give him a cross look. The angel didn’t seem to notice, his gaze drifting around the establishment. “Where is Dean?”

            Pausing, Sam considered the man sitting opposite him, the way the skin pulled tight around his eyes, gaze cataloging and assessing everything going on around them, searching for potential threats. Sam ventured, “Look, if you are here to keep an eye on him because of what happened yesterday, I can tell you right now-“

            “Bobby sent me with information regarding the case,” interjected Cas sharply, meeting his gaze. They stared at each other a moment, Sam weighing if it was worth calling the angel out of the partial lie. Bobby may have had information, but he just as easily could have called with it, like he normally did. Cas brought it to them in person because he wanted to.

Opening his mouth, Sam shut it again as the blue eyes slid past him, to the owner of the approaching footsteps. The younger Winchester silently wondered if Dean was even aware of how his whole face seemed to light up when Cas dropped in on them. The angel automatically slid closer to the window to make room as Dean slid in beside him.

            “Hey, Cas,” he greeted, easing into the offered seat and offering a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?” After their shopping trip earlier, Cas had mentioned something about checking in with Heaven about the bizarre monster behavior and winked out of sight. “Didn’t expect you back for a while,” admitted the elder Winchester, brushing his hair back and tucking it behind his ear.

            “Just being paranoid and over protective,” Cas answered flatly, before meeting the younger brother’s gaze, and Sam felt words die in his throat, dropping his eyes to the menu. while Dean looked as though he were trying gauge if Castiel were being serious or working on his sarcasm again, before Castiel continued, “Bobby sent me. He is still looking into any and all possible leads concerning the whereabouts of Chuck. Unfortunately, Heaven has no information on what is causing the increased activity and violent nature of the supernatural forces on earth. That said, Bobby did run a search on missing persons in this area for the last month, before narrowing it down to a radius that included the hospital.”

            “I take it we got a couple of hits?” Sam questioned.

            The angel nodded. “A block of abandoned and rundown buildings scheduled for demolition on Monday, and the sewers. Where would you like to start?”

 

            They voted for the aboveground option first. Though neither Dean nor Sam were looking forward to trying to take on a wendingo’s speed and power while in an enclosed area.

            “Explain to me why Cas came with us if he was gonna angel-poof as soon as we got here?” whispered Dean as they crept down a graffiti covered hallway, checking each room they came to. “You don’t really think he’s here just to make sure I don’t get myself in another mess, do you?”

            Turning the corner of a doorway with his gun held up, Sam teased, “Maybe you make him uncomfortable in this form.”

            They’d loaded their weapons with silver rounds, both brothers carrying several silver knives as well. Given his even greater height advantage over his brother now, Sam was carrying the duffel with the flamethrowers and machetes for whenever they finally found the thing. Sam wasn’t comfortable with the odds that what trouble they _found_? Was going to be trouble of a completely _human_ nature, and given the neighborhood? He and Dean were going to be severely outgunned.

            That was not how he wanted to die, not even getting to save lives.

            For his part, Dean looked more worried by Sam’s suggestion than that the angel might actually be uncomfortable around Dean now. Though, Sam had never considered what their reaction might be if Cas suddenly found himself having to use a different vessel with a stranger’s face.

Even more so if his new vessel turned out to be a girl. If that were the case, Sam wouldn’t put it past his brother to put Cas through a whole new level of teasing they had never subjected him to, including undercover identities that consisted of too-short skirts and half buttoned blouses just to see Castiel’s reaction.

            “Dean,” hissed Sam from his side of the hallway. They were slowly searching room to room, most of them only showing evidence of regular vandalism and squatters, and thankfully, no bodies. A blonde head poked out in the hallway, brows raised in question. Sam whispered loudly, “If Cas ever winds up in a vessel that’s a girl and you start hitting on him because of it, or make him go undercover in a skirt and a pushup bra under some top that doesn’t fit, _I swear to God_ , _Dean_ , I will smother you in your sleep!”

            “You wanna talk about this _now_?”

            “Yes!” spat Sam. “While you are currently in a position to better understand living gender stereotypes and sexual harassment!”

            His brother scoffed, throwing his head back to regard the ceiling. “How is it that _I’m_ the one who ended up with boobs and no dick?” He lifted his head to glare at his brother. “You are so much better suited for this.”

            “Dean!”

            The blonde threw up his hands. “Alright, fine! If it’ll make you feel better! I promise not to pick on him too much if he ends up having to wear a chick, okay? Geez. Not like I could. Guy could still glare a hole through my head and smite me to oblivion with a thought.”

            “And not to suddenly start flirting with him just because he’s wearing a girl,” insisted Sam, shoving a box frame away from a closet door to check inside. Nothing but wire hangers and rat nests.

            “You were serious about that part?” hissed his brother, and Sam opened his mouth to tell him off when Dean continued, “Dude. Cas is still _Cas_ beneath the packing! He’d think I’d gone mental! And would serve me right. God, you pick the worst times to want to talk about crap,” he insisted, flicking his hair over his shoulder as he grabbed the corners of a desk that was shoved in front of a door and dragged it to the side. The overturned furniture was covered in graffiti, wooden legs looking as though they’d been gnawed on. “Like I would suddenly- ugh, Sam! C’mon!” He shot his brother a disgusted look as he straightened again from his work and opened the door.

            They continued down the hall, Dean throwing Sam disgusted and wounded looks in turn. “Your reputation precedes you, Dean,” was all Sam would say in his defense, because even Dean should understand where the younger Winchester was coming from.

            Snorting, Dean nodded and checked the last room on that floor. “Yeah, but even I wouldn’t- I mean, I’d like to keep him around, Sam, not drive him off.” He grabbed the door to the stairwell and held it open for his brother, expression pinched and gaze distant, then his gaze sharpened and he looked at his little brother as he passed. “Since you brought it up, you don’t think there’s any chance I actually do make Cas uncomfortable like this now, do you?”

            “What? _No_ -“

            “Because, you didn’t see his face when I took him to that brothel-“

            “That was because you are the jerk that took an _angel_ to a _brothel_ , dumbass!”

            “I have seriously never seen him look so scared, Sam,” insisted his elder brother.

            “Again, look at where you took him and what you expected him to do!”

            The displacement of air was the only warning they got, both brothers looking up just as the wendingo dropped from its perch above them, descending, all long limbs and sharp teeth.

            “Shit!” yelled Dean, diving forward while Sam threw himself backward toward the door, to the small measure of safety offered in at least fighting in a hallway rather than a stairwell.

            They both raised their weapons, earning an inhuman, maddening shriek in return, impossibly long limbs folding as the monster crouched and then shot up like a spring, almost invisible to the human eye it moved so fast. Dean was already on his feet and clamoring down the stairs to get out of the cramped stairwell, flesh crawling from the noise ringing in his ears, adrenaline pounding through his veins.

            Once free of the stairwell, both he and Sam spun to face the door, weapons raised and ready. Moments stretched out in tense silence. A bead a sweat trickled down the valley of Dean’s spine.

            “Sam,” he said in a low warning tone.

            His brother nodded, turning so they were back-to-back as they began a slow circle, hyperly aware they were in the middle of this thing’s playground, that it could come at them from any angle. Which explained why they hadn’t found any recent signs of life in the building. Then again, they hadn’t found wherever the Wendingo was holding its victims yet, either. Maybe its nest was in an adjacent building and this one was just part of its hunting grounds.

            A window at the end of the dead end hallway imploded as the monster came crashing inward, feet hitting Dean square in the chest and sending both Winchesters flying backward, their bodies crashing together, and wind sorely knocked from Dean’s body from the attack and the harsh landing. He also wasn’t sure which of them fired off the shots, or if both of them managed.

            Given that the wending showed no signs of slowing its movements, their attacks went wild.

            Then there was whooshing as Dean was trying to scramble to his feet, the world blurring in his vision, before he found himself being held aloft by the throat and slammed against the wall, sheetrock cracking behind him. His teeth rattled with the force of how hard his head slammed back, ears ringing as his weapon was plucked from his grip and squeezed into a blob of metal before it was tossed aside. That was so not good.

            Dean kicked uselessly, trying to use his feet against the wall for leverage, to get air to his lungs, while digging a knife out of his boot and stabbing it to the hilt into the wendingo’s forearm. The beast shrieked and snarled in Dean’s face, the rancid breath hissed through jagged teeth making Dean’s skin feel like it was burning all over. Then the grip on his neck tightened and he was yanked forward, presumably to be slammed back once again, but instead his world view tilted and he was thrown headlong away from the wendigo.  Sam screamed for him just as Dean realized he was being thrown out the same window the wendingo had just come at them from.

            His arms scrambled to try and grab _something_ to keep from going out that window like a baseball in reverse, to stop his body from passing through the frame. He reached out with both hands to grab the bottom of the window frame, shards of glass cutting into his forearms as force propelled him forward and then gravity pulled him down, ripping a string of swear words from his mouth and clenched teeth, a roar of pain tearing through him as he came to a stop, hands gripping the window pane and ruined with glass. He could tell immediately tendons had been at least partially severed, his grip didn’t feel right, felt weak. Gun shots sounded in rapid succession from inside the building, as blood flowed freely down Dean’s arms, his fingers quickly growing chilled.

            “Dean!” yelled Sam, sounded winded and pained as more shots were fired.

            The elder Winchester’s grip was slipping, his fingers almost useless as he dangled several stories above the ground. God, there was no way Sam was going to be able to get to him while fending that thing off.

“Cas!” he yelled, as his devastated arms failed him and gravity took over, the horrible, real feeling of choking on his stomach and his fingers slipped fully away from the frame.

            Then strong arms were grabbing his wrists, Dean’s half-formed scream dying before it made it past his lips. He looked up in shock, seeing the dark head and blue eyes above him, the angel hanging halfway out the window to catch him, looking fierce and dark and beautiful, relief making Dean sag.

            “I will never not be glad to see you, Cas,” he admitted breathlessly, before gritting his teeth in pain as the angel pulled him up and back through the window, his hands forcing the shards of glass in even deeper into Dean’s arms. The sight of his brother over the other man’s shoulder, trying to fend off the wendingo with the small flamethrower that looked like a zippo lighter by comparison made Dean completely forget about his own injuries. “Sam!”

            The angel tore his gaze away from Dean, head snapping back to look at the younger Winchester, Dean slumping against the wall to slid down and sit on ratty carpet and more broken glass. Without another word, Cas strode forward in a wrathful swirl of coat. In the light of the flames from Sam’s weapon, Dean swore he thought he saw the shadow of angel wings splayed across the hallway.

            Sweat and blood were pouring into Sam’s eyes, the rake of claw marks on one side of his face making his right eye practically useless. He’d already emptied a clip of silver rounds into the wendingo and it had only managed to slow the bastard down. On the list of his least favorite things to ever have to face down, wendingos were close to the top, because all the cards we stacked in their favor.

Pretty much like everything else they fought against, now that he considered it.

            One long arm swung out, back handing Sam in the chest and knocking him clean off his feet and down the hall and, dear God, if his ribs weren’t cracked, they were definitely going to be bruised. He still needed to get to Dean, too, he thought, struggling onto one knee and trying to force his lungs to breathe, even while the breath made him want to curl in on himself, arms hugging his ribcage. Rancid breath displaced the air and ruffled his sweat soaked hair, making him look up sharply, with wide eyes into a mouth filled with pointed teeth and strings of saliva.

            The point of an angel blade rammed through the thing’s spine and impaled its heart, the tip breaking through the chest. Its body lit up from within, flashing as though it had swallowed a lightning bolt, while Castiel stared down at it with a grim expression, mouth fixed in a hard line and nostrils flared.

            Despite himself, Sam gaped a moment, a part of his brain pointing out, not for the first time, that Cas could be damn _scary_ when he wanted to be. Just as the monster’s body slumped lifeless to the already ruined carpet, the expression on his friend’s face was gone, those cold blue eyes now warmed with concern as they darted over the taller male, cataloging ever injury as Sam pulled himself to his feet.

            “Are you alright?”

            Sam didn’t even bother to answer, too busy pushing past him to try and get to his brother. “Dean!”

            The elder Winchester was slumped against the wall, a burgeoning bruise on the side of his face, hands and arms _covered_ in blood, leaving dark, growing stains on his clothes. His face was pale.

            “Sam, you okay?” he asked, as Sam crouch beside him, hands hovering uselessly before extending Dean’s arm out to assess the damage and swearing a blue streak when he saw it. “I got all the big shards out,” Dean assured him softly, looking so broken as he sat there covered in his own blood. Large, bloody pieces of sharp glass lay on the carpet beside his thigh.

            Sam was yanking off his outer shirt and giving Cas a desperate look. “Cas, can you…?”

            “You need to search the rest of the building for those people,” insisted his brother. Cas approached them carefully, kneeling by Dean’s outstretched feet. Glass crunched beneath his shoes.

            Sam brother glared at his brother, focusing on somehow trying to stem the bleeding. “Dean, if we don’t do something, you’re gonna bleed to death. Cas!” His head snapped to their friend, demanding answers.

            The angel was frowning, careful hands reaching for one of Dean’s arms, encircling his wrist with long fingers, the other hovering over the mess of a wound. “It is not as simple as healing him,” admitted the seraph. Tiny shards drew up from Dean’s forearm, glinting red in the light, and circling in the air beneath Castiel’s open palm as he drew all of the glass out. “The spell that has changed his form complicates things, I would need to work more slowly, carefully.”

            “But can you do it?”

            “It’s the only option we have,” interrupted Dean tiredly, drawing his brother’s attention again. Dean nodded toward the stairs. “Go. Search for those missing people. Cas will keep me company.”

            Debating, Sam glanced between the stairwell and his brother. Finally, he gave a solemn nod, giving Cas’ shoulder a squeeze as the angel now worked on extracting the slivers of glass from Dean’s other arm. When his little brother had vanished through the door with their duffel bag and weapons, Dean let his head sag back against the wall, green eyes falling to where Castiel was working.

            “Can you fix me, Cas?” He gave a wry smile, though it was weak. “I know if anyone can, it’s you. If not, there’s nothing to be done.”

            The angel’s mouth was set in an unhappy line. “I can, yes, but I am not comfortable with the time it will take, and I cannot restore the blood your body has lost.” He cast the glass fragments to the side, straddling Dean’s thigh’s now, blue gaze carefully looking Dean’s face over, perhaps looking to the bones and muscle below the skin, examining the hunter on a molecular level.

            “You put me back together once, Cas,” Dean reminded him gently, feeling oddly grateful that even were he to die, Cas would be with him. “Piece of cake to do it a second time.”

            The angel made a noncommittal noise, lifting his hands and carding them through the blonde’s hair, letting his thumbs rest against the hunter’s temple. The hunter wanted to close his eyes, let his head rest against one of those hands. God, he would never not be grateful for Castiel.

            Dean tried to smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Vulcan mind meld, Cas? Are you sure now’s the best time?”

            “Why do you insist on making references you know I do not understand?”

            “At least now you know when they’re references.”

            Any other circumstances? This would have been awkward. Cas had never been good at personal space, but there were times when social norms went out the window as well. Like when you were bleeding to death. The angel’s face was inches from Dean’s, blue eyes focused and intent, not even really looking at Dean, but more like at something inside the hunter only Castiel could see. As the angel’s brows furrowed deeper, a gentle warmth thread like a phantom touch through the hunter’s body, so faint he wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination. Blood loss left you feeling cold, rather than like thin rays of the summer sun was slowly being injected into your veins, making you pleasantly lethargic and relaxed.

            Using his friend’s distraction, Dean allowed himself to study the angel closely, the furrowed brow, and downturn of his lips at the corners, the way they angel’s eyes were unguarded and determined. The phantom warmth was curling around Dean’s arms now, and he _knew_ it was Cas at work.

            The minutes passed in silence, the tension slowly bleeding out of Cas’ shoulders and expression to be replaced with… resignation? Regret?

            “Stop that,” ordered Dean softly. With a blink, suddenly Cas was looking _at_ Dean again, the slightest tilt on confusion to his head. “Stop looking at me with that ‘This is all my fault, if only I’d’ expression.” Castiel’s throat bobbed in a swallow, and Dean offered him a weak attempt at a comforting smile, voice dropping to a soft whisper, “This is the job. This is the kind of stuff that happens on the job. This wasn’t my first wendingo, won’t be my last. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a bag of Legos on the cement out there.”

            The angel broke eye contact, looking down at the progress of Dean’s arms rather than meet the hunter’s eye. “I feel I have failed you many times over these past days, Dean. First, not being honest with you about Sam-“

            “That was a dick move, I’ll agree, but it was my brother’s idea.”

            “Then with allowing you to take part in the hunt for Charles-“

            “Which was my idea, and I still stand by it.”

            The angel sighed and shook his head. “Then yesterday with Gabriella-“

            “Again, Sam was with me then too. Nothing could be done about it and I volunteered, and before you start in about my injuries today? I repeat: not a bag of Legos on pavement, dude.” He shifted so as to catch the angel’s eye again, bumping their foreheads together like a cat, making Castiel look at him in surprise. Dean gave him a fond smile. “I’m just having a rough week here, but I’ve had worse. You are working a miracle as we speak, Cas. If it was me and Sam, I’d be bleeding out on the way to the hospital and there’s a very real chance I wouldn’t make it.”

He let his head fall back, exhausted from holding it up just that short time, giving into the warmth spreading through him, the sense of comfort and security, and letting his eye lids droop to half mast, while he feigned scolding, “And don’t you dare use this as an excuse to hover in the future. I am capable of looking after myself. I’ve just been out of the game a few months and have a new body that I’m not use to. Once I get some rest and some food, I’ll get some sparring in with Sam. Keep him sharp, you know?”

The warmth flooding through him was really comfortable and all he really wanted to do was curl up in it and go to sleep.

“I understand it is not wise to let you fall asleep right now,” Cas’ gravelly voice said, breaking through the veil of sleep that was trying to steal over Dean’s mind. The hunter’s eyes fluttered open; he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. “Talk to me, Dean. Tell me what you will do once we find Chuck?”

“After I get my boy body back?” he wondered, because really. First things first.

The barest hint of a smirk curled at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.  “Of course.”

Dean shrugged, or tried to. At least, he _thought_ about shrugging. “I dunno. Keep looking into why the monsters are acting weird if we haven’t figured it out by then. Why the hell is a wendingo in a city this size?” He paused, frowning at his friend’s face as his brother’s words from earlier echoed in his head.

Castiel sure didn’t seem in anyway uncomfortable with Dean being in a girl body, if their close proximity was anything to go by. Then again, this was an emergency, and Cas was all professionalism at the moment. Dean really didn’t think a vessel change would make Cas nervous. He would still be _Dean_ to the angel. The Righteous Man he first meant when he was pulling the hunter’s mostly transformed soul from hell, turning him from a demon back into something human. The human he’d rebuilt on a molecular level.

His lids felt heavy and he really wanted to just let them close for a little while, to curl up next to a warm body under a warm quilt and sleep for hours.

That was when Sam came back, restraining a Japanese woman by the arm while she eyed him in suspicious terror. When her eyes found Cas and Dean though, more specifically, the _blood_ _all over_ _Dean_ , all color drained from her face and she tried to bolt from Sam’s grip, using the nails of her free hand to try and claw her way free as Sam hissed in pain and tried to reassure her he wasn’t going to hurt her.

She tried to wrench free of his grip, so hard she was more likely to hurt herself than she was to take off running.

*“Dame!” Dean called out, making her freeze. Three sets of eyes turned to focus on the hunter in varying levels of shock and surprise. He tried to smile at the woman. “Watashi-tachi wa tasukeru tame ni koko ni iru.” Her gaze flicked to the angel that still had his hands in Dean’s hair, then to the man that held her arm, before drifting back to Dean. “Watashi no namae wa Dean desu. Daijoubu desu ka?” She gave a timid nod and he smiled wider. “Do you speak English?”

“Y-yes,” came the hesitant response, like she wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal that yet.

“Excellent.” He glanced to the two men. “This is my brother Sam and our friend Cas. The monster is gone.”

Cas’ expression had returned to one of concentration, Dean feeling as tendrils of the angel’s grace receded. “Sam. Was there anyone else?”

“No one we could help.” His hazel eyes flicked over his brother. “How is he?” he questioned of Cas.

“He will survive,” the angel allowed, removing slender fingers from Dean’s hair, “but we need to get him home and let his body do the rest.” With this in mind, he shifted to the side, fluidly scooping Dean into his arms and rising.

The hunter let out a cry of surprise and then protest. “Cas, you are _not_ carrying me! Put me down.”

The angel gave him a flat look of impatience and challenge, a brow arching. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you could stand-“

“Of _course_ I can stand!” Just as suddenly he was on his feet, glaring for only a moment until his hearing started to sound muffled and the room swayed heavily beneath his feet. One hand grappled for the closest stable surface, tangling in the labels of Cas’ coat as a hand went to Dean’ head. “I think I lost more blood than I thought,” he slurred, this time not even protesting as he was suddenly lifted again.

There was more talking and movement, a steady rhythm to the swaying world as Castiel carried him from the building, Dean trying to focus on the angel’s heartbeat or the pattern of his footfalls, rather than the dangerous tilt-o-whirl of the building around them. Dean tried to threaten Sam at one point, growling out a ‘I better not hear a word about this, Sammy’.

He wasn’t sure the threat came out sounding like anything coherent.

“This never happened, Cas,” he said, still slurring and closing his eyes again, trying to force his senses to work properly.

The angel carried him effortlessly. “Of course, Dean. The way I remember it, I was knocked unconscious and _you_ had to carry _me_ from the building.”

“Damn straight I did.” His mouth curled into a smile.

He almost sighed in relief when they got out of the structure. They could see their saved victim safely home, or maybe just Sam could while Cas transported Dean straight to Bobby’s and then Dean could actually get some sleep. And he needed _another_ shower.

The familiar sound of guns cocking stopped them in their tracks, Dean lifting his head enough to peer around as the hands holding him tightened. Five men stood in a semi-circle behind them. Not gang members, thankfully, but, hey, still armed. Hunters, by the looks of them. Each looking probably twenty years older than they actually were, with weapons trained on their backs.

“You the Winchesters?” one of them asked

Dean nearly groaned, head dropping to rest against Castiel’s shoulder again. They so did not need this right now.

“Maybe,” Sam answered carefully. “Who wants to know?”

“The people out to stop the Anti-Christ from coming to power,” the man said.

The blond hunter stiffened, lifting his head to look at the gathered hunter’s over Castiel’s shoulder again. That was when he realized that the majority of the guns at their backs were focused on _Sam_.

Oh yeah. This was definitely not his best week ever.

 

TBC

 

Translations:

*Wait/It’s dangerous!” Dean called out, making her freeze. Three sets of eyes turned to focus on the hunter in varying levels of shock and surprise. He tried to smile at the woman. “We’re here to help.” Her gaze flicked to the angel that still had his hands in Dean’s hair, then to the man that held her arm, before drifting back to Dean. “My name is Dean. Are you okay?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He glanced up in time to find Cas watching him, their eyes meeting and locking. Suddenly it was like the room was smaller and there was less air, like Cas was something bigger, greater, something magnificent and terrible in the room with him. He wasn’t just a man sitting at a table, he was something ancient and powerful, and when he smiled, fond and fierce, something in Dean’s chest squeezed tight.

 

            Did Dean mention it wasn’t his best week ever? It _really_ wasn’t.

            Five hunters had weapons trained on them, each them looking like something that escaped from an episode of _Swamp People_ or _Duck Dynasty_ and that boded _so_ well.

            Gravel shifted as one of the hunters behind them, an older guy with a gray beard and a sawed-off, moved to a better angle, giving the four people nowhere to go.

            The poor woman they’d saved looked terrified, even as Sam tucked her behind him, he and Cas slowly turning to face the hunters, the angel’s arms still full of half-conscious Dean Winchester.

            Sam had his free hand raised, the other still keeping a grip on their wendigo victim to keep her from bolting and getting shot by someone too trigger happy for their own good.

            “Look,” started Sam, far more reasonable sounding than Dean felt.

Then again, Dean had just had to be carried from the building after been thrown through a window and nearly bleeding to death. Apparently gravity was pretty keen on setting him up on a date with the ground today.

The younger Winchester looked so earnest as he regarded the other hunters, Dean had no idea how Sam was the one who was the rep for Hell while Dean was the one for Heaven. He’d be the first to admit it ought to be the other way around. Cas would argue that point, but he was biased. Not to mention: Cas was an angel. It probably wasn’t possible for him to be judgmental and know a lost cause when he saw one.

“I’m not sure what all you’ve heard, but we are definitely not a threat to the planet,” Sam was saying. Calling Sam the anti-Christ, while not entirely accurate, also wasn’t wrong _per say_. He was the vessel of Satan, but they weren’t a _willing_ threat to the planet. “We’re the Winchesters. Hunters. Protecting humanity is in the job description. It’s what we do. We aren’t your enemies, so please lower your weapons.”

The guns didn’t budge. Dean hadn’t really expected them to, watching balefully from his position in Cas’ arms, head resting against the angel’s shoulder. He idly hoped the warmth he felt spreading through him was from the angel’s continued efforts to heal him as opposed to just being held by the other man.

“Heard destiny has plans for you two,” a man that looked like a trucker stated. “Years in the making kind of plans. Some big cosmic war?”

“We stopped that war before it started,” Sam stated. “About three months ago. That’s over and done with and we weren’t apart of it, we were _against_ it.” The other man snorted. Irritated, Sam shifted in place, giving a small huff Dean recognized from the many times he and Sam had argued. “Look, if we’re so bad, why did we just come here on a hunt, take on a wendigo in a freaking hallway, and _save_ the most recent person it snatched?”

“I notice you haven’t let her go yet.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Because I still don’t feel she’s safe.” His voice was low and menacing.

 _That’s my boy_ , Dean thought, a smirk curling his mouth.

He knew he ought to be embarrassed to have Castiel holding him, but Dean was too tired to care. His body was telling him he needed food and sleep. The warmth settling over him made it hard to keep his eyes open, even in the face of the threat around them, making him sigh and sag more against Castiel.

The angel’s presence was a comfort in a way Dean didn’t want to examine closely. Even with all the craziness the past few days, Dean still couldn’t regret being back in the life and having his family again. Part of his brain resolutely whispering that just having Castiel back was worth the trade-off.

One of the hunters was glancing around nervously. “Perhaps the street in broad daylight isn’t the best place to have this argument?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have pulled guns on us to begin with,” snapped Dean, speaking up for the first time. He just wanted to go home, and was fighting a losing battle against falling asleep in Cas’ arms. He could feel himself losing.

He was also pointedly _ignored_ as the hunters circled around, herding the group back into the building they’d just left. Sam shifted the small woman in front of him again, switching back and forth between trying to assure her everything would be okay, and insisting to the people that had guns pointed at their backs that this was all a misunderstanding, while she cried softly and prayed in Japanese.

When they got inside the building, Dean’s waning patience snapped and he twisted and pulled away from Cas until the angel was forced to set him on his feet. If this was going to be drug out and Dean and his brother accused, well then, Dean would be on his feet to face the threat to his family. Castiel clearly took issue with this, glaring entire _speeches_ at Dean, his jaw set angrily.

They were being steered through the dim, littered corridors, Dean stumbling over his feet as blood loss made his head swim. Castiel walked by his side, one hand curled around Dean’s arm as his fierce glare flicked to the hunters that were holding them, detaining them when both Winchesters _clearly_ needed medical attention. Dean was still covered in his own blood and barely standing, while the blood pouring from the wound on Sam’s face had slowed, it had already soaked into his collar and was spreading down his shirt. One eye was swollen shut and he had an arm curled around his ribs, the protective gesture catching Dean’s eye and making the elder sibling’s gaze rake over his brother’s form worriedly.

“Dean,” whispered Cas in a low growl.

The hunter glared at him. “No, Cas. We _talk_ to them. Try to get this sorted and taken care of now. Set the record straight since that we know someone is out there making us out as the bad guys.”

Blue eyes held his angry gaze, impatient. “Dean, you were severely injured, both of you were. I can heal Sam-“

“Dude, I am not going to a hospital if that is what you’re getting at. I’m fine.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed even further, the hand wrapped around Dean’s bicep tightening. “Then walk ten feet unassisted without losing your balance.”

A gun prodded Dean in the back between the shoulder blades. “Stop talking, before we decide to shoot you and be done with it.”

The angel and hunter continued to glare at each other for a moment longer before Cas’ expression soften, eyes pleading with the blond. “Please, Dean,” he said softly, thumb stroking over Dean sleeve.

That did it for Dean, and he bit his lip and dropped his gaze. He knew Cas was worried, but they also had to try and undo whatever damage the demons had done to their reputations as well.

“Just… ten minutes, Cas, okay? Let’s just try to straighten this out.”

Inhaling sharply, Cas tilted his head back to regard the ceiling, hand never faltering from Dean’s arm as the muscles in his jaw flexed. “Five, and then we leave regardless.”

They were herded further still into a room with overturned office furniture. Sam led their ward to a chair, giving her a small smile as he indicated for her to sit. Righting the desk, Castiel gave Dean a look and gestured for the hunter to take a seat. His eyes warned that they would follow Dean’s plan, but that the hunter would do it _sitting down_. An unspoken ‘or else’ hung in the air around them, making Dean bristle defensively before he grudgingly moved to _lean_ back against the desk, lifting a brow in challenge at the seraph.

Even an angel had no right to be so beautiful while so thoroughly angry; it really was unarming at times. Dean coughed and looked away, back to the hunters.

Now, not only were they out manned and outgunned, but they were in a random room in a condemned building, possibly waiting to be gunned down for crimes against the planet that weren’t exactly their fault.

 “Look,” Dean began impatiently, causing five sets of suspicious eyes to snap to where he was leaning against the desk, hands gripping its edge, “I can assure you: whatever you’ve heard about us- and I’m sure it’s bad- but it’s probably not as bad as it sounds. We’re the good guys.”

Confusion flitted over the faces in front of them. Several of the unfamiliar hunters glancing at each other, then back at Dean.

“Who are you? Thought you were a victim like her.” The man that spoke nodded to the Japanese woman. They really ought to have asked her name.

Dean bristled indignantly, suddenly realizing that up until now they had thought _Cas_ was Dean. “You pull guns on us and don’t even know who we are? That’s _my_ baby brother you’re threatening.”

More looks of confusion while Dean stood, hands fisted at his sides, teeth clenched. The apparent leader narrowed his eyes on Dean. “The Winchesters are a pair of brothers,” he said.

Dean stilled, muscles taunt as the silence stretched. Raising his chin, he shifted his weight to his back foot. “We are. _I’m_ Dean, the eldest- current girl body due to an ongoing case and a demi-god’s twisted sense of humor. It’s temporary.” The hunter on the end choked on a laugh and Dean’s head snapped in his direction, glaring. “Laugh it up. We’re searching for a missing Prophet of the Lord, and considering the prices we’ve paid in the past in order to _save_ lives? Temporarily being a chick is the _least_ of my concerns, so stuff it.”

“You’re trying to help a Prophet?” another hunter asked, voice dripping with skepticism. “Sure you don’t need him for some sort of ritual? Man of God is a powerful ingredient.”

Sam glared. “Except prophets are protected by archangels. Try to kill one and you will be smited where you stand.”

“Way I heard tell, you Winchesters are innovative. I doubt something like an archangel could stop you.”

They had no idea how accurate that statement was.

“Look,” Dean snapped, taking a step forward. All the guns in the room were instantly trained on him and he froze. Cas and Sam both went still as statues and the elder Winchester raised his hands, softening his tone, “Look. Whatever you’ve heard about us isn’t true, okay? I mean,” he backed up to lean against the desk again and gestured over his shoulder at the angel ready to spring to action. “This guy’s an angel. He works with us to help people. He helped us save the world _from_ Lucifer. We aren’t in league with Hell or whatever.”

One of the men with red hair streaked with gray spoke, gun steady in his gnarled hands. “People seem to forget Lucifer was an angel, too, so having one on your team does you no credit. You say you aren’t in league with hell, so I take it you’re saying your momma _didn’t_ make a deal with a demon and give them _him_ rather than her soul?” he asked, jerking his head to where Sam stood. Dean stiffened, shooting a glance at his brother. The muscles in his brother’s jaw twitched.

Dean really wanted to know where these hunters were getting their information.

“That’s not exactly true,” Sam hedged carefully.

“I guess it isn’t true either your daddy made a deal with the same devil to save your brother’s life,” another one demanded, jerking his head in Dean and Cas’ direction, “Or that your brother sold his soul to have you brought back to life? That your brother spent forty years being trained by the best Hell had to offer before he ended up crawling his way out of his own coffin? All your family seems to _do_ is make contracts with Hell.”

“All of that is just facts out of context,” snapped Sam angrily. “Our entire life has been seeking revenge _against_ Hell and the demons that destroyed our family!”

“Well, of course, _you’d_ say that,” a voice muttered, and Dean wanted to claw his eyes out in frustration. “Sources say otherwise. Say you two have been groomed your entire lives for your roles. That you fell in love with a demon and let Lucifer out of his Cage to walk the Earth.”

“Did sources also say we put him back in it?” demanded Dean, causing all eyes to turn to him as he took another angry step forward. He was grateful for the hand that suddenly gripped his arm as if to restrain him. Dean knew it was really to help keep him up. “Did your sources tell you Sam here _willingly jumped into the mouth of Hell_ because he knew it meant taking the Devil with him? Knew he’d spend eternity trapped with Michael and Lucifer, because yeah, Heaven’s Head Boy is down there, too, dick that he is. Funny enough, _God_ only saw fit to release _Sam_ , and left his own kids in the cage instead.”

“Heaven and Hell tried to jumpstart the Apocalypse,” Sam explained. “Demons thought Lucifer was their savior and wanted him set free. That he would create a new world for them on earth. God left the angels to their own devices a while ago, but angels…” he faltered, searching for a summarized explanation of all the things wrong with the winged children upstairs.

“With God having left Heaven,” Castiel began, “the angels had no new orders to follow, and therefore attempted to follow the only other divine plan they had: Armageddon.”

Dean was nodding. “Yeah, God is currently taking a very hands-off parenting approach so the angels will think for themselves or something, screw up and try again till they get it right.”

“Not Armageddon, though,” Sam rushed to assure the hunters. “Just, y’know, thinking for themselves. Being responsible or whatever, because the angels all look at God like a toddler to a parent.” The tension in the strange hunters had melted away, most of them frowning as they listened. “Basically what happened was: a kid turned around in the grocery store and didn’t see its parent, it immediately freaked out in fear, making a fuss to try and get the parent to find them again. Pretty much the same thing. Except with smiting power.”

Castiel glared at him, affronted. “We were _not_ squalling toddlers in the produce department, Sam.”

Dean glanced at his best friend, mouth twisted to the side fondly. “You kinda were, Cas. Not all of you, of course. Some of you handled it better. You were the kid who stands there looking around not knowing what to do, until someone stepped in and took you by the hand.”

One of the men was giving them an unimpressed stare. “Heaven and Hell trying to end the world for their own end doesn’t explain why you were in the middle of it.”

“Dude, even we aren’t a hundred percent sure why we got dragged into the middle of it rather than Michael and Lucifer fighting it out in their true forms with all of space as their battlefield,” Dean stated, waving dismissively. “It was apparently part of a prophecy or something, so that’s what they planned. They don’t think for themselves too well, like we said.”

Nodding, Sam explained, “They wanted to _use_ us, but we weren’t apart of it. They wanted to take human vessels and make earth their battleground. Dude, call Bobby Singer. He can vouch for us. We have a _list_ of people who can vouch for us.”

Eyes raked over the three of them, slow and assessing as the seconds stretched.

The apparent leader raised his weapon again, honed it on Sam, and suddenly all the other guns were up as well.

“What we heard was still true, and if what you say is as well, there’s still a chance you’re still a threat if either side gets their hands on you.”

            Lightening flashed in the building, the shadow of Castiel’s wings thrown across the walls and ceiling as his eyes lit from within. “Enough!” he barked. The woman they had saved was scrambling for cover, throwing herself behind the desk and praying loudly in her native tongue. The angel placed himself between the two parties, looking fierce and terrifying, and something fond and warm swelled in Dean’s chest at the sight of it. “The Winchesters have been patient with you and explained the truth of the situation, but more importantly, _I_ have been patient with you. The Righteous Man and his brother are the saviors of your planet and everyone on it. They have saved another life today and are now in need of a hospital themselves- Dean, _do not argue with me right now_ \- so I would deem it wise all of you go about your day, question whoever told you these things to begin with, and then spread the _truth_ of the matter to anyone who will listen.”

            Pivoting, he turned on Dean, fingers only brushing the blonde’s temple before his knees gave out and Castiel caught his unconscious form, scooping him back into his arms. Sam let out a wordless squawk of surprise, mouth falling open.

            Cas fixed him with a look, one brow arching. “The hospital will tend to him more quickly if they see an unconscious woman covered in her own blood will they not?” Sam’s teeth clacked shut and the angel nodded toward their rescue. “See her home safely. I will call with details.” There was a rustle of feathers, but Castiel faltered, looking again at the hunters. “Bring any harm to Sam and you will force me to go back in time to stop it, and _that_ … will end _very_ badly for you. So _don’t_.”

            Then he was gone.

~*~

            The timid knock on the hospital door made Dean glance up from his never ending channel surfing curiously. Anything was a welcome distraction from his forced hospital stay, save for the people keeping him there.

            Like the angel sitting by the window he was currently not on speaking terms with. The angel pointedly ignored him, as well, pointedly reading a book and not looking at Dean save to glare at him when Dean’s got huffy or tried to argue with one of the nurses that his admittance was not necessary.  The angry tension that had been present since Dean first woke up hung heavy in the air.

            The door to the room of ‘D. Winchester’ opened and Becky of all people cautiously poked her head inside, peeking around the door timidly until her eyes landed on the blonde in the bed, and her face lit up.

            “Oh wow!” she exclaimed entering. “You’re gorgeous as a girl!” The groan and eye roll he released apparently went unnoticed as she came in and shut the door behind her, adjusting the large purse on her shoulder. Cas spared her the briefest glance before returning to his reading as she continued, “I was trying to picture it and couldn’t. Genderswap is a common and popular trope in any fandom, but I could never read it because I couldn’t visualize it, but I can now. I bet Sam would make a pretty girl as well.”

            Dean was frowning at her in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

            “I called Bobby to check in. He told me you’d been busy and were currently staying over night in this hospital.” Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, she flashed him a grin. “I brought you a ‘Get Well’ present.” She glanced cautiously at Castiel, reaching a hand into her large purse. “I figured you might appreciate something other than hospital food…”

            She pulled out a brown to-go bag with grease stains on it. Dean jerked to a sitting position, hands already reaching. In the corner, Cas shook his head and sighed before continuing with his book. As Dean greedily tore into the bag and made a happy noise at finding the burger inside, Becky retrieved more items from her purse and talked.

            “Also, Dean, thank you _so_ much for letting me know my poor Sam was alive and safe when you knew I’d been mourning him all this time.” The smuggled burger paused half-way to the hunter’s open mouth. Realization and fear flickered through green eyes, and Becky’s stern expression softened. She waved a hand. “Relax, Dean. I’m not gonna rip you a new one. Bobby says you haven’t had a moment to really take it in yourself since you found out.” She arched a brow, turning so that she was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, pen and pad in hand with a rectangular device on her knee. “Sounds like you’ve had a busy few days.”

“Crap, Becky, I am so sorry,” Dean told her, genuinely meaning it. “I just- I haven’t had the time, I mean, we haven’t slowed down-“

            “I know, Dean. It’s not a big deal. I get it. And it’s not like we’re friends and you’d automatically think to update me on something like this,” she said, not unkindly; fully aware of her position in relation to the Winchesters.

            “He’s downstairs getting coffee right now,” he told her, not sure if he was offering for her to go see his brother, or affirming that he was in fact alive.

            She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know. I passed him on the way upstairs. He was surprised to see me. Apparently, you forgot to mention me to him as well.”

            Frowning, he let his gaze rake over her, suddenly suspicious. “Then… if you know he’s here, why are you with _us_?”

            Rolling her eyes, she nodded. “Yes, why aren’t I giving you both more of a reason to think I’m a freak by stalking your brother through a hospital-“

            “I never said you were a freak, Becky,”

            She gave him a pointed look. “Did you forget a prophet wrote your lives? Your opinion of me is not kind, Dean Winchester, neither is Sam’s. In fact, I scare him, and you both think I need to be institutionalized-“

            “Not _literally_ ,” insisted the hunter in a mumble, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. Castiel had closed his book and was watching the exchange with no small measure of curiosity, tracking the conversation with his eyes.

            For a long moment, Becky studied Dean, letting her eyes play over his face, lips pursed. Sighing, she reached for the rectangular device on her knee, clicking a button on it before grabbing up her notepad and pen, sitting with the writing utensil poised. “Okay, so, start at the beginning: what led you to getting back in the life after Sam died and tell me everything that’s happened these past few days so I have stuff to work with for the book.” She glanced around the hospital room like she’d never seen one before. “And why _are_ you here? I’ve only known you to be hospitalized if you were in a coma or dying or something. You _seem_ pretty healthy,” she stated, eyes trained on the blood transfusion bag and other clear liquids on the I.V. tree.

            He shot the angel a look and the other man glared back. “Castiel knocked me unconscious in order to bring me here against my will.”

            “You came within an inch of dying three times in thirty minutes,” snapped the angel. It was the first thing Cas had spoken directly to Dean in several hours. “You would not heed my advice or concern. I would rather see you angry and _alive_ than stubborn and _dead_ , Dean.”

            “Bringing me to the hospital was overkill, man! I told you that! I just needed rest and food at Bobby’s!”

            “Had you listened to me- to _us_ this morning when we asked you to take it easy and wait another day to follow up on today’s case, you might not be in this situation now.”

            “And if I _had_ , Himiko would probably be dead!”

            “She would have been rescued by the hunters we ran into after you got to her, the same hunters that wanted to kill you and your brother! Not everything is on you! Why won’t you listen to me or your brother when all we are trying to do-“

            “Is treat me like I don’t have what it takes to do the job anymore!” snapped Dean, voice rising in anger. “And then you turn around and get mad at me when a weird case none of us knew what to expect of goes badly!”

            Becky threw up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, stop. Both of you.” She glowered at them each in turn. “The two of you fight like a married couple.” They snorted and glared in opposite directions. She rolled her eyes, looking first at the hunter. “Dean. What is your first reaction when Sam has done something that really scared you and had you worried and freaking out?” He met her gaze, but kept his mouth pressed in a tight line. “You get _mad at him_ , don’t even argue. Lashing out in anger in the aftermath of fear is the typical reaction when dealing with those we care about. Whatever happened apparently scared Cas, and being that it happened to _you_ , he’s holding you responsible and wanting to make doubly sure you’re okay.”

            She rolled her head around to regard the angel. “Cas, you know as well as anyone that Dean wants to feel like he’s in control of his own life, or at least some sliver of it, even while everything around him is falling apart. You took even that away from him by forcing him to come here when he didn’t want to, even if only for overnight observation and a blood transfusion. He knows what his body can survive-“ The angel opened his mouth and she held up a hand, “-even if it’s not his regular body. He went to Hell for forty years. He is intimately familiar with what the body can withstand. If he said he could have healed up at Bobby’s, you could have let him. He wouldn’t heal as fast, but he would do so on his own terms, which sometimes is all the Winchesters have.”

            Heavy silence fell as she glance back and forth between them, watching as anger bled away to resignation and regret, both men stealing furtive glances when the other wasn’t looking. Becky knew it was pretty much as close to an apology as they’d get with her in the room. She shifted, continuing to sit with her legs folded and pen poised. She’d have to delete the argument on the recorder when she got home later.

            Or maybe not. It was cute when they acted so obviously married.

            “So, like I said,” she arched a brow, “start at the beginning. Leave nothing out.”

            ~*~

            Finally back at Bobby’s, Sam and Dean were half-way through their stretches before the sun was even up. The yellow glow of the artificial lights throughout the salvage yard gave everything a slightly ominous feel, casting strange shadows as moths dancing around the mounted fixtures. Had it not been for necessity, Dean would have protested to the high Heavens about being awake at such an ungodly hour. But, Sam wasn’t the only one in need of training anymore. The last few days had made that _painfully_ obvious.

            It was actually Sam that broke the silence. “You do realize Cas is going to be royally pissed off when we get back inside, right?”

            “He’s pissed off _now_ ,” snapped Dean, before jerking his head toward the house. “He keeps glowering at me from the window, dude. I can _feel_ it; I don’t even have to see him.”

            “He’s _worried_ , Dean. Cut the guy some slack. He doesn’t do well not being able to help when something is wrong.” He sighed, holding his brother’s wrists as they sat facing each other, feet to feet and pulled his sibling forward. “Hell, I was scared, but you wouldn’t listen to us. Dean, you’re… well, I mean, we’re all family, but you’re the one he values most out of us. I really don’t know how he’d react if something happened to you, especially right in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.”

            The grip of their hands changed and then it was Dean pulling Sam’s arms forward. The taller male was a lot more limber than Dean. All this stretching was killing his legs.

            Sam wasn’t anywhere near done with his lecture, was just getting started in fact, and Dean really thought he was getting an unfair deal.

Castiel was mad at him for, like, recklessly endangering himself or something. As if Dean’s bad week had been planned from the beginning, because yes, losing his dick and growing boobs had _completely_ been on the elder Winchester’s bucket list.

Sam was mad and being a fussy mother hen, like it was Dean who had been dead to his knowledge a week earlier rather than the other way around, and he was scared any sudden movements would take his brother away from him again. As if the guns the other day hadn’t all been focused on _Sam_ rather than Dean.

Releasing his brother in disgust, Dean drew up his legs, planted his feet and rose fluidly, glaring and pointing down at the man staring up at him in confusion.

“Let me explain you something, little brother,” began Dean tersely. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your head recently, or into Cas’ for that matter, but I have spent most of my life looking out for you, putting your life ahead of mine, fighting to keep us together and to keep us both safe, and I would remind you that for _your_ _entire_ _life_ I’ve done a fair job of that, so you two can either quit acting like I am a rookie on the field or I _swear to God_ I will give you a reason to be concerned about my well-being. The day with the Wendigo was a bad day, but what happened to me was not my fault. It was a part of the job. It could have just as easily been you, and seeing as how _you_ are actually the one in physical therapy still, I suggest you _Back. Off_.” He stood to his full height, seething. “The two of you have had your panties in a twist since Gabbie worked her mojo, and if you are suddenly treating me like I am weak and defenseless because I took your place in the deal and became a girl-“

Horror passed over Sam’s face and he was on his feet in an instant. “Is that what you think, Dean? We’re, what? Treating you like a girl? Like a damsel in distress?”

“It’s what it freaking _feels_ like!”

“You were hit by a _spell_ , Dean! A spell that turned you into a girl and did God knew what else, because you were out cold. For hours! And a house fell in on us, and it’s only because of Castiel we got out at all! Then, no sooner do you wake up then you are vomiting like you want to introduce us to your entrails, Dean! You were running a fever of _a hundred and_ _six_ , and not even an _angel_ could heal you! You were delirious and there was nothing any of us could do but _watch_. Then? As if we hadn’t had enough scares in twenty-four hours? You refused to stay off the case when we got a lead and we ended up going after a ridiculously hard monster to hunt when we _aren’t_ fighting in close quarters. It threw you out of a window, Dean! If Cas hadn’t saved you, you’d have been dead! Then, even _with_ him saving you, you were _bleeding to death_!”

His little brother shoved at him angrily. “The past few days? We haven’t gotten the chance to feel secure in your safety before you were throwing yourself in harms way again! We just wanted to know you were okay, and everything seemed to be trying to take you away from us, Dean! We were _scared_! You are the toughest man I know, the best hunter I know, but you aren’t _invincible_.” He shifted, muscles in his jaw clenching. “Just… let us see for ourselves you are really alright before you go rushing off to save the day, okay?”

For a long moment, Dean just considered his younger sibling, trying to see things from his and Cas’ perspective as his eyes played over his brother’s face. Finally, he gave a slow nod.

The tension in Sam’s form slowly leaked out and he nodded in relief. “Good.” He hesitated, hazel eyes flicking over Dean’s shoulder toward the house. “And talk to Cas.”

“You mean ‘apologize’.”

“Sympathize,” insisted the taller male.

Snorting, Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his stance, stepping back on his right foot with his fists up. The younger Winchester shifted and spun in a long leg roundhouse kick. They knew various hand-to-hand combat styles, but being that they were ineffective against most monsters, they typically never got to use them except against each other. John had been thorough in his training, and neither Sam nor Dean could say the skills hadn’t come in handy countless times.

Especially if they got caught hustling.

Dean dropped to a crouch, missing the kick completely and struck out at his brother’s shin with a solid kick, grinning when Sam swore on impact. Then, Dean was up and swinging his right fist at his brother, aiming not for his face, but the place in his ribs that had been injured before Cas intervened. Angelic healing did nothing for body memory, though, so Sam’s eyes widened in panic, body shifting to try and protect what he still considered an injury, and using his weight to shove into Dean, throwing the blond off his feet with ease, surprising them both.

Picking himself up from the dust, Dean rushed his brother, springing into the air to land a flying kick in Sam’s stomach, knocking him back in kind, before they were both on their feet, exchanging blow after blow, blocking punches and dodging out of the way of kicks, grappling with each other as Dean tried to implement fighting techniques that better suited his now smaller form and lower center of gravity, as he tried to adjust to fighting with a body he was unfamiliar with.

He was a smaller target, swifter and lighter on his feet, so when Sam lashed out with his ridiculous long legs in powerful kicks that Dean would usually try to block, the blond dodged them instead, retaliating in the instant when his brother was left wide open. He even dodge rolled between Sam’s legs, to come up behind him and kick the heel of his shoe into the back the younger hunter’s knee, causing him to stagger and drop.

Grabbing his brother in a headlock, Dean grinned. “You’ve gone soft, Sammy. Too much time making doe eyes at Sarah.”

With a grunt, Sam reached back over his shoulders to grab his brother. “You wish.” Too large hands grabbed Dean by his ponytail and the back of his shirt and flipped him forward, off his feet and hard onto the packed earth, forcing all the air from his lungs.

The sun was steadily making its way over the horizon as Dean coughed and pushed himself to his feet, glaring as Sam marked himself a point on an imaginary scoreboard and grinned cheekily. Then, they were having at it again.

The sparring season wasn’t as fluid as their innumerable other fights in the past. Sam kept struggling to gauge exactly how much force to use with Dean, and kept accidentally sending him sprawling or flying backwards when it only would have knocked him off balance in his previous form. He switched from his preferred kicking-style to mostly boxing moves instead, fists up and bouncing on the balls of his feet while he and Dean circled.

Dean’s distance was off, having been use to much longer arms and legs until now, he kept missing his brother by scant inches in some of his attacks, and trying to power punch a guy who had a laughable height advantage over you was ridiculous. He ended up adopting Sam’s discarded kicks for his powerful attacks, using quick, fast body punches and combination attacks before darting out of his brother’s range.

They came in fast and strong with their attacks, then softened them the last second, testing and pushing each other, constantly forcing the other to adapt and move. They avoided any serious hits to the other’s face, softening them as much as possible when they did, because they had no headgear or mouthpieces.

It seemed to amuse Sam to continuously use Judo and other martial arts moves to sweep Dean’s legs out from under him, or to purposefully knock him down on his back, leaving Dean blinking up at the sky, confused as to how he kept finding himself with the same view. On his feet again, Dean swung his leg around to kick his brother in the ribs, only to have him anticipate it, arm locking Dean’s calf to his body to throw his brother off balance and try to land him in the dirt again. Planting his hands, Dean used his brother’s hold on the one leg to aim a second kick at the brunette’s head.

The blow clipped the side of Sam’s head just as he released Dean and backed away, allowing Dean to collapse into a roll and then bounce back up on his toes. They were both panting at this point and covered in dust and dirt.

“You were never much for kicks,” pointed out Sam as they hung in a precarious stand-off, both in a ready stance.

Dean gave a one-sided shrug. “They feel… better in this form and work better given how much bigger you are than me now.”

“I figured you never got the hang of them, and that was why you stuck to punches.”

“Nope. Just feels great to punch a guy in the jaw on a normal day.”

He shot in, trying for a series of combinations, only to have them all blocked by his brother, solid forearms knocking Dean’s attacks away, then attacking in kind, leaving Dean backing away as he blocked and countered.

“What was up the other day with the Wendigo?” questioned Sam, breathing heavily as he and Dean resorted to attacks and parries.  “When did you learn Japanese? While you were with Lisa?”

“You can’t learn Japanese in three months, Sam.”

“Then when did you do it? How? It took you years to learn the Latin exorcism by heart, and even then you were just reciting it.”

“Spent forty years in Hell, Sam. I picked up a few things,” he admitted, landing a back fist against his brother’s head.

Sam staggered, one hand covering his ear as he shook his head, before giving Dean an incredulous look. “And you decided to learn a second language?”

“I learned _all_ the languages,” clarified Dean, letting the fight seep out of him, hands on his knees as he panted for air. Sam plopped down on the ground, braced back on his hands. “You aren’t flesh and bone in hell, it just seems that way, and knowledge is fluid. I didn’t learn how to do it until I accepted Alistair’s deal to get off the rack, the knowledge just sort of… came to me.” He considered for a moment. “I’d already tortured a hundred, a thousand souls at that point. I was no longer frantic, more calculating. The soul that day was praying, babbling, pleading and I stopped short regarding him, remembering how Alistair liked talking to me, the things he would say often hurt more than the knives he flayed me with. Half the torture was psychological. And as soon as I decided I wanted to be able to understand what he was saying, a babbling brook became a stream of words I could comprehend.”

Dean sighed heavily, dropping to sit cross-legged in front of his brother. He remembered the slow curl of his mouth, the grin that had stretched across his face when he’d realized he now had an entirely new weapon to use against his victims. He’d seen the look of madness reflected back at him in the whites of the man’s eyes, on the gleaming metal of the blades and hooks and instruments all around him.

He lay back in the dirt with a frown, arms outstretched by his sides, feeling his heart rate gradually return to normal, his sweat cooling on his skin, the grit of the dirt that covered them both.

“That memory pretty clear to you, huh?” wondered his brother softly.

Dean watched clouds sweep by overhead. “I remember everything from Hell clearly, Sam.”

~*~ 

Castiel looked up in surprise when Dean set the brown bag and drink in front of him on the table, before folding his hands over the back of the chair across from the angel. Blue eyes took in the bag sitting on a stack of books and papers, then swept upward to regard Dean in confusion.

“I got you a bacon double-cheeseburger.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “With jalapenos and chipoltle sauce.” The other man frowned in confusion and Dean shifted, bracing his weight on his hands and breaking eye contact, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance. “It’s not an actual Dean Winchester Special, but it gets my seal of approval, so I thought I’d grab you one.”

There was a look on Cas’ face Dean couldn’t name, but it wasn’t angry, perhaps bemused? Amused? Well, he wasn’t glaring holes in Dean’s head anymore, so the hunter was considering this progress.

He sighed and pulled out the chair, taking a seat across from his friend. The seraph’s eyes tracked his every movement, even after Dean was seated and brushed his hair over his shoulder. Regarding the offering, Dean repositioned the stack of books and the food on top so he had an unobstructed few of the man across from him.

Conveniently, Bobby was working in the panic room, and Sam had his ear buds in as he researched in the library, allowing Dean to have this brief moment with the other man.

Green eyes flicked over the angel’s features, studying the face that watched him patiently.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally blurted out. “The past couple of days, I… worried you more than was probably necessary. I’m… I wasn’t actually trying to get myself killed off or make your life hard or whatever. So, uh…” Words failed him and he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck and gestured toward the food with his free hand. “You know.”

A shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of Castiel’s mouth as he reached for the peace offering, seeming to consider his words before he spoke.

“Dean, I do not wish for you to feel as though I think of you as anything less than the warrior you are, but,” he lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s, “know that I could not bear to lose you anymore than you could bear to lose Sam.” Something in his gaze hardened. “Were that to happen, I cannot say what I would do.” The look was gone, replaced with a sheepish expression. “I find I’m quite… protective of you.”

Clearing his throat and dropping his gaze to hide his blush, Dean gave a shrug. “Not like you couldn’t pop in and visit in Heaven or whatever.”

The hard edge returned to the angel’s voice, making Dean look up with a start. “I want you to live a long human life, Dean. I want that for both of you.”

There was a pregnant silence, heavy and thick between them. Dean slid his gaze away and focused on the floorboards, practically able to feel the angels eyes on him like a physical touch.

The moment shifted when Castiel reached for his lunch and began pulling the burger and fries from the bag, arranging the French fries so that Dean could easily share them with him.

“You appear to be adapting to your new… form rather well,” the seraph said conversationally before biting into his burger.

Dean’s gaze had snapped back to him at the pause in speech. “You almost said ‘vessel’, didn’t you?”

“Habit.”

The blond stole a fry and bit it in half, considering his friend’s words. “I guess you could say I’m getting the hang of it. The height difference is still really weird sometimes. Everything seems… bigger or something.”

The dark haired man inclined his head towards Dean. “And you are wearing your new shirt,” he observed.

The blonde looked down at the graphic tee he was wearing, black with a silver coat of arms and crossed swords were on his chest, directly over his heart. The back was entirely consumed with a silver crucifix and detailed wings. It wasn’t his style, but it was comfortable and easy to throw on with jeans, so it had been what he’d grabbed to put on after his post-spar shower.

He glanced back across the table, continuing to help himself to the French fries. “What made you pick it out? You wear the same thing all the time, so I have no idea if you actually like certain a clothing style or whatever.”

Wiping at his mouth with a napkin, the angel gave Dean a half-smile. “Demons will not be able to grab you while wearing it. Other creatures will also be affected. It offers a small measure of protection, is all.”

Dean blinked in surprise, before twisting around trying to see his own back, taking in the design with new eyes. “Dude. How did we never think of this before?”

A chuckle from the other man made Dean regard him again. “Somehow I don’t think you’d like having crucifixes detailed into all of your clothing, Dean.”

He scrunched his nose at the mental image and went back to eating. “You know me well, Cas.” He gave a shake of his head. “Any extra help we can get on the field would be nice though.”

He glanced up in time to find Cas watching him, that same dark… almost possessive look back in the angel’s eyes again as their gazes locked. Suddenly it was like the room was smaller and there was less air, like Cas was something bigger, greater, something magnificent and terrible in the room with him. He wasn’t just a man sitting at a table, he was something ancient and powerful, and when he smiled, fond and fierce, something in Dean’s chest squeezed tight and he had to swallow the lump in his throat.

“That is why _I_ am here, Dean.”

~*~

He’d agreed to take things easy for a couple of days because Sam and Cas had been so worried. Being that they _were_ so paranoid, Dean couldn’t fathom what led to the current situation and his predicament.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean demanded, “Please explain to me again in a way that makes sense why I am the bait for this.”

He was wandering the sidewalks downtown, with the sun at its peak and beaming down on him. He’d been out here for almost an hour already and had easily already walked several miles snaking his way around the blocks on his own.

Sam had given Dean crap about not taking advantage of Castiel’s form if he ever ended up wearing a girl, then had turn around and done it to his brother. Jerk.

            His brother sighed heavily in the earpiece Dean wore. “ _Because_ Dean,” he began in a tone that akin to pacifying a curious child to make them go away and stop asking questions, “we are dealing with witches-“

            “We think.”

            “We think,” allowed Sam, and Dean could imagine him nodding his head in concession. “Witches serve demons. Demons know our faces. _You_ are wearing a new face, so they won’t recognize you. Therefore, as all the victims so far have been female, _you_ are the bait.”

            And wasn’t he just sitting pretty on the hook. To play up the whole ‘oh look at the innocent, harmless girl all on her own’ they’d pretty much donned Dean in as little clothing as they could. He was wearing a floral halter top with a sash that tied in a bow in the back. That was paired with a pair of shorts and cowboy boots.

            “You are gonna end up with so much Nair in your shampoo, Sam,” promised Dean, turning a corner and continuing past a bistro. It did not escape his attention the male eyes that followed him, and even the few eyes of women. The women looking at him made him want to add a little strut to his walk, then he remembered exactly what he looked like… this was so beyond his pay grade. He sighed heavily. “So much Nair.”

            There was a snort in his ear and he could hear the eye roll on the other end. “We could get another girl to play bait, Dean. Let’s see, who could we ask were they even in the area? Well, there’s Sarah-“

            “The future mother of your children is not playing bait.”

Sam ignored this and continued, “Then there’s your new friend Charlie-“

            “I am not letting a civilian do this.“

            “I guess we could maybe convince Becky to help if I ask nicely enough,” he said thoughtfully.

            “She has even less training than Charlie and is busy saving us from bad writing!”

            “Well, the only other girl I know is Lisa, and-“

            “Over my dead and rotting corpse,” Dean growled.

            “-I figured you wouldn’t go for that.” There was a pause. “Do you want me to explain again why you’re the bait?”

            Younger siblings were overrated.

Scowling, Dean paused by a boutique, pretending to window shop while checking his surroundings in the reflection of the glass. “I’d like to know what we would have done for this case were I not the hottest chick in town.”

            Another sigh and eye roll from his brother. “You really shouldn’t think so little of yourself, Dean. Try to have some self-confidence.” Dean grinned and started walking again as Sam continued, “And we would have gone through Bobby’s contacts to see who was in the area that could give us a hand, but neing that your unique situation allows us to work the case, we’re out here saving our public image.”

            “We should have just handed the whole case off rather than driving all the way to Alabama to deal with it ourselves.”  A bead of sweat trailed down the curve of his spine. “It is ridiculously humid down here, man.”

            Commiserating impatience seeped into the younger Winchester’s tone. “Tell me something I don’t know. I’ve sweat clean through my shirt. Welcome to life on the Gulf Coast. You’re right, we should have handed the case off. Another hunter could have interrogated the witch and given us a lead on what demons are involved.”

            “Try not to use the ‘D’-word so loudly while you are sitting on the patio of that trendy little café in the middle of the _Bible Belt_ ,” chastised Dean. “And no complaining. I’m the one walking around in this heat. Meanwhile, you are sitting under a fan and stalking my position from your laptop while ordering frozen coffee. Next time: you’re the bait. Really tall bait.”

            His brother made a considering noise and Dean paused in front of another shop window, looking at a display for new and used books.

            Were he not currently working a case, Dean would want to come back downtown at night. While there were a few stores and one historic theatre, the majority of downtown consisted of restaurants and bars, a place to have fun where old world charm met modern culture.

He needed a night out, maybe hustle some pool, and find a girl to dance with. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to try and take her home yet. The focus of his eyes shifted and he regarded his own appearance. While girl-on-girl action had always appealed to him in skinamax viewings, he found himself more than a little leery to try it himself. He couldn’t say why exactly, other than it didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been long since he and Lisa had called it quits? Not that they had really been working or that they had been a normal couple when they’d been together, and it wasn’t like the idea of a hook-up left his with the sense that he were cheating, it just… didn’t appeal to him. Maybe he was just getting older.

If Dean had been worried about awkward, post-breakup small talk with his ex-girlfriend? He needn’t be. Lisa had laughed until she’d cried when he’d called her that morning to update her on the case and keep his promise of calling her weekly.

Since she had been the only one close to him to find his transformation funny so far, he let her laugh, withholding all the other details involved in his transformation or the days after and all the trouble they’d run into. His life was pretty messed up, after all.

“Finish the lap,” Sam was saying in his ear, “on your way back to me. We’ll go back to the motel for a few hours then come back tonight to check out a few buildings.”

Opening his mouth, Dean planned to remind his brother that this place was going to be crawling with people come night fall, faltering when turning left him nearly ramming into a guy in his early twenties. The stranger grinned as Dean apologized, “Oh, sorry, I-“

Two things happened then. One, Dean noticed the black eyes hidden behind the man’s sunglasses. Two, he felt a tazer press against his stomach.

God, so not his best week ever.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She laughed and everything in him wanted to shove the blade to the hilt into her throat and leave her choking on her own blood. He felt Sam edge closer, possibly to try and stop him before he did just that, the blond hyperly aware of the angel at the edge of his peripheral vision. Dean pressed the blade hard against the tender skin of her throat, letting the pressure build until the edge drew a thin line of blood.
> 
> “Tell us whatever it is you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Totally disregarding where Chuck lives and moved him closer to Bobby for plot relevant reasons aka Becky.
> 
> Special Thanks to my new Beta Oppisum and all her help and emails back and forth discussing this chapter. I really think you helped improve it. KD_Heart, thank you as well for offering a different perspective to scenes and how things could be interpreted by the reader.

Dean woke up in a cage. No. A _dog kennel_ with a lock on it. He had just enough room to push himself to his hands and knees to examine the door to his small prison.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

“It gets worse,” a voice regretfully informed him.

Dean followed the sound of the voice to see his brother seated against a cement support beam, a sheepish expression on his face, arms pulled back out of sight around the structure, chain links securing him there.

Dean dropped his head. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.” His heavy sigh made him wince, hand gingerly pulling the fabric of his shirt up to reveal the tazer burn marks on his stomach. “Sonuvabitch got me good.” He let the fabric fall and his eyes swept over wherever he’d found himself. “Did you get tazered unconscious, too?”

“Blow to the back of the head when I came looking for you.” He visibly winced at the memory. “I found what was left of your ear piece where they snatched you. We’re about a block away in a four-story red brick building with a fire escape.”

“I take it they didn’t turn off my phone?”

“Nope. I tracked it straight here.”

Dean snorted. “Idiots.”

He let his eyes travel the entire room. The windows were boarded up, casting the corners in dark shadow. Near the door was a table cluttered with books and bottles of ingredients. He paused when his eyes fell on the altar. It was an altar for a pagan god rather than a demon, the strong scent of herbs and incense in the air. Dean let his gaze fall to the area around his kennel, noticing the painted circle and writing around it, the candles and bowls with sprigs of fresh herbs.

He swore again. “Am I a human sacrifice, Sam?” he asked, sounding almost conversational.

“Seems like,” admitted Sam, shifting against his bindings. Dean heard the clink of metal and nearly rolled his eyes. Of course their captors didn’t use rope, because that would have been too easy. “There are only three of them, Dean-“

“Well, that’s something, at least.”

“-but the weird thing is: they’re demons.” Dean’s head snapped around from searching his prison for a weak point to exploit to stare at his brother. He remembered the demon that attacked him, but thought he’d only been hired muscle if they were sacrificing to a pagan god. Demons sacrificing to a god made no sense. Sam saw this on his face and nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

 “Can you tell from the altar _which_ god?”

The brunette jerked his head toward the altar. “My guess is a harvest god.” He shook his head, their eyes meeting and locking. “Something weird is going on, Dean. I think something’s wrong with them.”

The blonde’s eyes narrowed before he went back to examining his cage and the lock. “Wrong how?” He removed one of his boots for his lock pick set, only to find it missing. The knife he’d had in the other one was gone as well. He glanced around again, frowning. “And where are the guards?”

“Considering they searched us both for weapons, you’re locked in a metal pet crate, and I’m handcuffed and chained to a pillar, I think they felt secure in leaving us alone for a while. Wrong in the sense that they’re eyes are always black, for one. For two, they aren’t talking, exactly. It’s like… I dunno, it sounds like fire wood crackling and water dropped on a hot skillet.” He shook his head. “They may not be demons at all, and that would make more sense, but what else has black eyes-“

“They’re demons alright,” Dean confirmed, finishing taking stock of everything he’d had hidden on him. He had his shirt lifted and was digging around in one of his bra cups, in the little sleeve where extra padding could be added. Sam pointedly began taking in the details in the room again, making Dean want to roll his eyes even as he withdrew the bobby pin with a triumphant “Aha!” before righting his clothing and setting about trying to free himself as he talked. “Sound like they were using one of the demon dialects. They could be first time topsiders and haven’t broken the habit yet, maybe. Usually the demons that only use demonic tongue are too animalistic to make it topside though. Demons have to earn the right to walk the earth, and are working for someone else, like Crossroads demons and grunts, or they have to be cunning and dangerous enough to do it on their own, like Meg. These sound organized, even if they’re actions make no sense. You said there were how many?”

“I only saw three.”

Dean looked up just as the lock popped open. “Just three? I got tazered, what’s your excuse?”

“Solid object to the back of the head,” snapped Sam as Dean crawled out of his kennel and stood, taking a moment to stretch, hearing his back pop in relief. “We’ve been here at least a few hours already.” Dean glanced at him and Sam indicated a beam of sunlight on the floor from where the boards over the windows didn’t quite meet.

“So _demons_ are snatching young women to be offered to a pagan god of _harvest_ ,” clarified Dean, voice thick with incredulous as he set about unlocking one of his brothers hands. “Not witches sacrificing humans to demons in tribute.” The binding came free and he started working on the other one. “Any chance the harvest they are wanting blessed is one of humans? Can that work?”

Sam rubbed at his wrists as they were freed and Dean worked on the bindings keeping him secured to the pillar. “Would a pagan god go for that if the humans being harvested weren’t for them?”

“Gods aren’t my forte, Sam. Pagan or otherwise, I like as little to do with them as possible.”

With the lock removed, Dean stood to his feet and darted across the room to the table of clutter and supplies, leaving his brother to finish freeing himself and scoffing at the sight of their weapons just left in the open like that. He sheathed Ruby’s knife behind his back, adjusting his shirt to hide it, before tossing Sam the angel blade he’d had on him. His brother caught it one-handed, attention focused on upsetting the altar so that whoever or whatever they had wanted summoned couldn’t make an appearance.

“I don’t think we’re on the ground floor,” Sam said. “If we can get out to the fire escape we can get out of here a lot easier.”

Resettling his lock pick set and knife in his boots, Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, but then that just ends in them snatching more people to replace us.”

Sam met his eye as he retrieved his gun from the table and tucked it into the back of his jeans. “So we question them?”

His elder brother tilted his head, considering. “We can try. If they can’t understand human speech, it might be like trying to talk to a Neanderthal that’s taken one too many hits to the head. Demons like this are all base instinct and aggressive behavior, they don’t really have a higher thought pattern, and their actions already make no sense.” He shoved his cell phone into his back pocket. “We’ll see how it goes.”

They carefully left the room on near silent feet, checking to make sure the next room was clear before slipping through the doorway.

“Are we leaving through a door or a window, Sam?”

“Door on the ground floor in back. Heavy metal thing covered in rust.”

“Guarded?” Dean questioned as they found the stairs and began making their way to the lower floors.

“Most likely.”

There had been stairs leading up to the next floor, and Dean hoped that meant the next floor was the ground floor. They stepped out onto the second floor of the building and froze, the eyes in the room all turning to regard them. Dean moved his hand to the hilt of his knife while Sam readied the angel blade.

            “Thought you said there were only three, Sam,” growled Dean, jaw clenching as one of the demons let his mouth stretch into a wide, sharp smile. “I’m definitely counting more than three here.”

            There were more than ten. All black-eyed and focused in on them like birds of prey that hadn’t eaten in days.

            “We still going for diplomacy here?” questioned Sam, as several of the demons began to saunter toward them and the Winchesters readied for the melee they were about to be in the middle of.

            Dean recognized the demon on the far side of the room as the one to have tazered him just before the first demon lunged. Dean spun to the side, avoiding the attack while snaking an arm around its torso and driving his knife to the hilt through its spine, directly into its heart. He could feel as metal slid between vertebrae, cutting through muscle and spinal cord. The body convulsed in his arms.

            Turning his head away from the blinding light, Dean ripped out the blade, slinging the blood off with a flick of his wrist as he and Sam were suddenly rushed by eight of the demons.

            Oh yeah, it was a good thing they had gotten in that sparring practice the other day, even still this very likely wasn’t going to end pretty. Why hadn’t they brought Cas?

            Sam was grappling with the first demon that came at him, full on tackling the younger Winchester, staggering the taller man backward. Planting his feet, Sam came forward, using his body to throw the demon backward, putting space between them with a back swing of his arm, then driving his other arm forward, stabbing the angel blade into the demon’s chest.

            Hands grabbed for Dean, arms looping under his arms and holding him from behind to leave him wide open for another demon that was making a frontal assault. Dean dropped like dead weight, letting his arms slide out of the grip as he hit the ground, his leg pulling back and striking out, his heel landing solidly in one demon’s groin, dropping him to his knees, where Dean’ could stab the knife into his neck and yank it back out as he scrambled to his feet again.

            Three demons had tag-teamed Sam, two of them holding him, while the other continuously punched the taller male. Dean made a move to go help his brother, only to end up getting tackled to the ground, one arm pinned out of reach of his weapon, and finding himself looking up into the grinning face of demon bastard with the tazer. Growling, Dean swung his arm around, bending it so his elbow smashed into the guy’s head.

            Sam took advantage of the demons holding him to land a front kick on the one that had been using him as a punching bag, the bottom of a steel toed boot smashing into the demon’s face. It staggered backward, hands coming up to cradle his face as blood went everywhere, its host’s nose complete broken, along with all its front teeth.

            Arm no long pinned, Dean came up, slamming his hands down over the demon’s ears as hard as he could, grinning as the demon fell back in agony, clutching at its head and damaged ear drums, completely disoriented. The hunter surged forward, switching their positions, straddling the demon and alternating several punches to its face as hard as he could before more hands grabbed him, dragging him up and away as he jerked and twisted, fighting to get free. A punch to his gut doubled him over, unable to breathe.

            Sam was still holding his own, but outnumbered and cornered, his weapon in hand while several of the demons laughed. When a dark look of amusement passed over the younger Winchester’s face, like the demons were the ones being toyed with, for one awful minute Dean fear griped his heart at the familiar cunning expression from a darker time, and he was suddenly terrified that Sam was about to use his demon powers, but no, he couldn’t, right?

            Dean’s head was yanked back by a fist full of his hair, forcing him to look at the leader again who was smiling in his face, entirely too close and making the hunter want to pull away reflexively.

            That was when the first gunshot rang out and a demon dropped dead to the ground, bringing everything in the room to a stop. All heads turned to regard the new figure that still had the smoking gun outstretched as she pulled back the hammer, prepared for another shot.

            “Well isn’t this a surprise,” Meg cooed, her brow rising and lips curled. “Though I suppose it shouldn’t be. Hiya, Sam.”

            A small voice in the back of Dean’s mind wondered how she was breathing in this heat and humidity while wearing all that leather. Then, with panic he noticed the claw marks digging into the floor as something invisible pawed the ground and growled, making his hair stand on end in terror.

            The demonness reached out to pat the air beside her. “Leave the humans and one of these drooling nimrods for questioning.” She had the same sadistic glint in her eyes Dean was so familiar with. “Have fun with the others.”

            Were he not currently restrained, Dean would have buried his face in his hands.

            “God cannot possibly hate me this much,” he groaned, before using the distraction to jerk himself free and dive for his weapon as the room exploded in activity again.

            One demon was tackled to the ground by the invisible hellhound, before being ripped to shreds, blood spraying over the walls as it screamed, a sound Dean was painfully familiar with. Sam was exchanging blows with the demons that had cornered him, apparently rejuvenated in the face of an old enemy joining the foray.

            Between the two hunters, a hellhound, and one demon wielding the _Colt_ , they made quick work of the majority of the demons in the room. The hellhound was happily gnawing on a demon in the corner that wasn’t quite dead while Sam slammed another’s head into the wall and let it hit the ground unconscious. The Colt in Meg’s hand swung around to point at the demon leader currently trying to flee, and Dean threw up a hand to stop her.

            “No, don’t!”

            She blinked and pivoted to shoot the other demon instead as Dean caught up with the leader, springing into the air and landing a kick in the middle of its back, sending him sprawling forward, where Dean grappled with him, hissing in the demon’s ear as he yanked the man to his feet.

            “I told you you were mine.”

            Bloody paw prints and clicking nails on cement indicated that the hellhound leaving its recent chew toy and returning to its mistress’ side. Dean shoved the demon leader forward so that it was in the center of their wide circle.

            Meg’s eyes had gone black and she regarded Dean, starting when she really saw him, before her brow arched as she grinned. “Trying out a new look, Dean-o?” He clenched his teeth, wanting to shudder in revulsion as her eyes raked over him in a leer. “Gotta say: I think this is an improvement. I certainly wouldn’t mind breaking in some bed springs with you now.” Her eyes returned to normal as she angled her head. “Were your previous seduction attempts with Clarence such a bust you resorted to this?”

            He swallowed. “What are you doing here, Meg? Call me optimistic, but I was hoping you were dead.”

            She clicked her tongue, gaze sliding to the other demon in the room. “Oh, I have been very busy lately.” The hellhound beside her growled low in its throat, and Sam moved protectively closer to Dean. The smile fell off of Meg’s face as she demanded of the demon, “To whom do you swear your allegiance?”

            The man released a stream of words in demonic dialect, the sounds sharp and discomforting to Sam’s ears. Meg gave a single nod before lifting the Colt and firing off another round, the bullet going straight through the demon’s skull. Its body fell slack at the knees, then slumped dead against the ground.

            “Hey!” barked Dean, furious. “The hell Meg?! We needed to _question_ him!”

            Her eyes studied the prone form dispassionately as she tucked her weapon away. “He’d have been of no use to you.”

            “You don’t know that!”

            She glared at the blonde. Sam noted that the demon and his brother were the same height now, complete color palette opposites, and it once again struck him how weird their lives were.

            Pointing at the dead man with one well-manicured finger, Meg demanded, “Did you not hear him, Dean?”

            “Maybe he’s been trapped in ice for a while and isn’t caught up on recent events!” the hunter threw back.

            “Azazel was never a ruler of Hell, you idiot! He was the overseer while waiting for Lucifer to be freed and take the throne.”

            Sam held up a hand. “That doesn’t explain why you killed him.”

            “Or why the hell you have the Colt,” barked Dean.

            Angry expression softening to boredom, Meg shifted her posture, weight on her back foot. She regarded them each in turn for a long moment before the corner of her mouth curled up in a smirk. “Oh, _boys_. You have so much to get caught up on if you don’t know.” Her brow twitched. “Then again, you’re the last ones to find out even when you are right in the middle of the shit storm, so I guess no surprise there either.” Turning on her heel with her hands in her back pockets, she glanced over her shoulder, “Well, I finished what I came for. See you lunkheads around. Tell the tree-topper I said ‘hi’.”

            “Hello yourself,” growled Cas, materializing directly in front of her. Dean turned a questioning look at his brother, gesturing, and Sam shrugged unapologetically, making Dean roll his eyes and look back. The angel had grabbed the demon, turned her and shoved her back into the room, before glaring at a snarling patch of air until it whimpered and went silent. The angel strode past, stepping over dead demons as he spoke, “You will tell us why you are here and what you know, Meg.”

            A coy smile played over her lips. “Will I?”

            “You are not dumb enough to show yourself to the Winchesters without a reason,” the angel pointed out, easily reaching under her shirt and plucking the Colt away from her. It disappeared into the pocket of his coat. “You are after something, just as you always are.”

            She tilted her head and looked at the man in front of her from under dark lashes. “Who’s to say? Maybe I missed you. We had a bit of a moment before, if you recall, just you, me, and that ring of holy fire. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel a spark, too, when I was in your arms, Clarence.”

            Now it was Dean moving to stand protectively by the angel, unable to stand the way the demoness was looking at him. “Meg, you can either talk, or I can start cutting.” He smiled darkly at her, feeling some deeply repressed sadistic pleasure rear its head at the very idea of having Meg on his table once again, of really unleashing the things he’d learned in the Pit on her. “You know I can make it last for weeks on my own, but with Cas there to heal you…” His lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as he smiled, words low and curling in darkness. “I can make it last forever.”

            “Oh baby,” crooned Meg, and Dean bristled at the breathy hitch of excitement he heard. “Don’t tease me.”

            Striding forward, Dean grabbed a fist full of her hair and forced her to her knees, Ruby’s knife at her throat. “Bitch, make no mistake, I will kill you just to spare myself the sight of you again.”

            She laughed and everything in him wanted to shove the blade to the hilt into her throat and leave her choking on her own blood. He felt Sam edge closer, possibly to try and stop him before he did just that. Dean was hyperly aware of the angel at the edge of his peripheral vision, hovering. The blond pressed the blade hard against the tender skin of Meg’s throat, letting the pressure build until the edge drew a thin line of blood.

            “Tell us whatever it is you know.”

            She smiled up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I always told you we would have had amazing hate-sex. Too bad we never got to follow through before you got all _righteous_ again.” The word was an insult on her lips, said with a sneer of disgust. He dug the blade in harder and she actually relented, trying to pull back and relieve the pressure, his fist in her hair keeping her where she was. Her eyes flicked over his face, considering. “You’re actually lovely like this, too. An avenging angel. Both genders suit you.” A growl escaped him, and she gave him a lopsided grin, sighing. “If you, baby brother, and boyfriend wanna buy me lunch… I might find myself inclined to chat,” she relented finally.

 

Which is how the four of them ended up sitting on a balcony patio ordering a late lunch, sitting around the table like they hadn’t all tried to kill each other at least once and weren’t currently at war with each other. Cas had already handed off the Colt to Sam, who tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and covered it with his jacket and shirt. Meg watched the whole exchange in that way she had, like plots and wheels were turning over in her head, multiples at a time, and you wouldn’t know what any of them were until after she’d embedded her claws in your throat and crushed your windpipe with her fingers.

            “Ruby told you how to make it work,” she began, glancing at both Winchesters. “Why haven’t you made other guns? Or, hell, knives, whatever.”

            “Lemme guess: you and Ruby were actually BFF’s,” drawled Dean, gaze raking over the menu in front of him and not sparring her a glance.

            She kicked him under the table, earning a glare. A demure smile graced her lips. “Don’t be silly, Dean-o. Hated the bitch. Even though we were on the same side. Do you remember none of our time together back home? You and me coming up with new and colorful ways to torture and kill people that, let’s say… worked in various departments throughout the company?”

            Sam was watching his brother with one of his concerned looks Dean hated so much. The blond could almost hear the unspoken offers to talk, of comforting hugs, the ‘I’m here for you, Dean’ that was so clear in Sam’s eyes.

            The wrong Winchester had ended up with a female body and it was completely unfair.

            “Stop looking at me like that, Sam,” sighed Dean, setting his menu aside. “It’s really annoying.”

            The waiter came out then and took their orders, Cas declining the offer of food, causing Dean to roll his eyes again and ask that an extra side of fries and ranch be brought out with his meal.

            The red headed male nodded, pausing in taking orders to let his gaze flick to each of them, question obvious in his eyes before he spoke.

            “How do you want this split? Do the boyfriends want-“ he began, looking back and forth between Dean and the Meg. The demon snorted into her drink, nearly spitting it out on Sam. The waiter was looking at Dean for answers, one hand indicating Castiel. “Oh I’m sorry, did I guess backwards?” He looked inquiringly at Sam, and Meg had her head thrown back laughing as everyone else at the table glared at her and Dean grit his teeth, fingers pressed hard into the edge of the table.

            “Dude,” quipped Dean, rolling his head around to regard the puzzled wait staff. “Wrong from the start. We’re- Sam’s my brother, Cas is family, and the hyena bitch is about to die after paying for her own food if she doesn’t stop laughing,” Dean clarified, pointing to the two men before snarling at the demon across from him. His gaze snapped back to the man with pad in hand. “One check, I’m paying, put extra salt on her order.”

            “Do _not_ put extra salt on my order!”

            Rubbing at the bridge of his nose in irritation, Cas sighed. “Please behave yourselves while in public.”

            The waiter made a quick retreat after that.

            Tossing her hair, Meg flashed a grin at Dean. “You can’t really still be in denial on this subject, can you, Dean?” She cast a glance at Castiel, who frowned and angled his head. She looked back. “Only you two seem to be out of the loop on your epic romance; that the two of you will one day do something _Hallmark_ sappy, like get married, buy a house, and adopt some kids and a dog.”

            “Not much of a dog person,” he responded flatly.

            Cas turned his head to look at him. “Could we get a cat instead then?”

            Dean blinked with a start, his eyes meeting the other man’s, and his brain suddenly supplied him with what Meg’s words would look like in reality. A house they fixed up themselves, standing back proudly to observe it once they had finally finished making it liveable, the outside sporting a new coat of paint they both wore a little of,  the two of them grinning at each other before leaning in closer for a brush of lips…

            A deep blush made its way up Dean’s neck and across his face. Meanwhile, Sam was laughing at Cas’ dry humor, prompting Dean to give a weak laugh as well, dragging his gaze from the angel’s while willing the heat to retract from his face.

            “Sorry, Cas,” he replied, voice only shaking a little, “I’m allergic to cats. I’ll let you pick out curtains instead, okay?”

            Meg gestured at the two of them with her hand, looking to Sam. “You see what I mean? I just threw up in my mouth.”

The taller male glanced longingly at the patio railing, and then at his older brother. “Can we maybe knock her over the railing and claim it was a drunk accident?”

            She rolled her eyes, throwing herself back in her seat with her drink in hand. “Really? Seeing my host crushed on the pavement once already wasn’t enough for you? C’mon, Sam, I try to take care of my meatsuits, if you recall. No harm came to you, after all.” She gave a quick one-sided shrug.

            “We’re off topic,” Dean interjected, not really wanting to think about the truth to her words. “Why were you there?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the building they’d come from.

            “To find and kill those demons, obviously.”

            “But _why_?” pressed Sam, irritated. “Why ask him about his allegiance then shoot him? Do you have a Vendetta against Crowley loyalists, or,” he glanced at his brother, “was his answer the wrong one altogether?”

            Lips pursed, Meg leaned back in her chair, arms folded as she stared across the table at Dean. The hunter answered for her.

            “He gave the wrong answer entirely. Plus, he and the others were only speaking in demonic dialect, and were making human sacrifices to a god of harvest.” The blond propped his chin in his hand, considering the female. “Something was wrong with them and _you_ were sent to dispose of them. Why? It wouldn’t be to stop the trouble they are causing. Demons only put down demons that are a threat in some form or another, so the question becomes: how were they a threat?”

            Sam opened his mouth to speak, and Dean threw up a hand. “Not yet. Thinking. Gimme a minute.” Long moments passed, the thumb of Dean’s free hand tapping out an irregular rhythm on the table. “They aren’t loyal to Crowley, but they could have perhaps become loyal to _you_ , as your Azazel’s, or even as Alastair’s apprentice, but _you_ don’t want them, even if to keep them from Crowley, which means this is something that threatens you both and actually has nothing to do with the power play in Hell at all. It’s something more basic.” He blinked with a start, sitting back in his seat and staring at her, not trusting his own deduction. She was smirking at him, but it was dark and unamused. “ _Something is wrong with them_ ,” he repeated, pieces clicking into place. “There’s a disease or something affecting demons- and it’s _spreading_ ,” he said, “so you are putting down any and all you find that are infected.”

            The two men seated at the table snapped their heads in Meg’s direction, grim and horrified. Dean shook his head, scoffing in disbelief.

            “You have no idea what’s even causing it, do you?”

            She shrugged, glancing up as the waiter came out with their food, setting the platter on a standing tray before handing out orders and giving Dean the extra plate he’d asked for. As soon as he was gone, Dean split his fries with Castiel and slid the plate over in front of the angel. He had learned that, if nothing else, the angel would share his fries, even while declining to actually order something.

            “I think it’s safe to say,” began Meg, shaking hot sauce over her own fries as she spoke, “that there are a lot of things going on right now that no one knows why.” She shot a pointed glance across the table.

            “The monsters going nuts,” Sam said, pushing around the sauce covered pasta in his meal.

            The demon gave the slightest incline of her head. “And the prophets all suddenly missing.”

            Beside him, Cas paled. “You said they are _all_ missing?” The Winchesters were both watching him, and the angel shook his head. “That is not possible. Heaven would know. _I_ would know; I’ve already made inquiries in Heaven-“

            “The God Squad hasn’t actually figured it out yet,” interjected the brunette woman. “Because of their security measures to ensure no one can kill a prophet, they don’t actually know what goes on with them, do they?”

            “And you know this how?” demanded Sam.

            She swiveled her head around to regard him. “I like to push boundaries, lunkhead. To see what I can and cannot do while staring down the barrel of a gun.” She shrugged. “A demon can be around a prophet all day long so long as you don’t actually hurt them.”

            “Fucking loopholes,” swore Dean before biting savagely into his avocado turkey burger, which was delicious, but he hated his new body’s apparent inability to let him consume whatever he wanted without consequence. Deliciously greasy and heavy food had never made him feel miserable the rest of the day when he’d been a guy.

            The sound of Sam’s voice jerked Dean from his internal loathing at his new form. “You have no idea what’s causing the monsters to act weird either, do you?” She shook her head. “Or what triggered the change in behavior?”

            Snapping, she pointed at him. “That we do know something about. Best we can tell? All of this started after the big letdown showdown between Heaven’s Head Boy and ours. That’s about the time the first cases started cropping up for both monsters and demons.”

            “Which matches what we knew,” sighed Dean, casting a worried glance at Castiel who’s brow was furrowed, gaze intent on the fries he was distractedly dipping in ranch and eating, only half listening to the conversation still happening at the table.

            Dean wondered if the other man was scanning Angel Radio or if perhaps even communicating with his siblings, trying to find out more about what Heaven knew. Dean turned his attention back to Meg.

            “How are you finding these infected demons?”

            She shrugged. “All honesty? We usually get a call. Crowley has his hands full organizing and executing an examination of demons everywhere. Only new demons seem to be the ones infected-“

            “As of now,” pointed out Sam.

            She made a noise and continued, “As this is something that affects all of us, Crowley and I have temporarily set aside our differences to face down a mutual threat. We’ll go back to attempting to assassinate the other one soon. The god the demons were attempting to pay homage to sent Crowley a message. They aren’t just trying to offer tribute to gods and demons, which is pointless given that they are already demons themselves, but their _methods_ are all wrong, and they’re practically drunk texting these pagan deities.”

            Nodding absently, Dean made a sound of consideration, surreptitiously glancing at Cas and catching the angel’s eye. The other man gave a fractional shake of his head and Dean slid his attention back to his meal.

            Brushing his hair over his shoulder, Dean ventured, “I don’t suppose you know anything about rumors circulating the hunter community that Sam here is to be the new King of Hell and I act as the King’s Hand, do you?” Her face remained perfectly blank save for a twitch of her eyebrow.

            Then she sighed, lowering her gaze to her food and continuing to eat. “I’ve been busy with other things, but I haven’t heard anything… that specific.” She glanced at them. “There are always people wanting your heads on a platter, but being that Crowley made a decree that marked you as off limits for out-right targeting, most demons are going to leave you alone. Granted, if you run into demons on a hunt or something, all bets are off and you’re on your own.” Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “The demons you’ll have to worry about are the ones that refuse to bend to Crowley’s rule, that either want a new player to come to power, or still believe that Lucifer is our salvation.”

            “Which includes you, if I recall,” Sam pointed out, drawling the words, his chin on his knuckles.

            A wry smile stretched tight across her lips. “I’ve… re-evaluate my position on that belief.”

            “So much for your prophecies of salvation,” snorted Dean, burger finished and stretching to dip his fries in Cas’ ranch container.  The angel slid it between them with the back of his hand, eyes focused on Meg.

            “There is not a prophecy that Lucifer would rise to power and save us,” Meg stated.

            Dean met her eyes across the table. “Demon named Casey told me he’s your demonic Jesus.”

            The demon inclined her head. “That’s true, but the official text about him… ruling the world, it’s more… _believed_ that he will. Or would.”

            Castiel regarded her. “Explain for us what the official text _does_ say, then. And where this,” his eye brow quirked, sarcasm coloring his words, “ _holy_ text comes from.”

            She smiled demurely. “It is said that Lucifer will be set free and walk the earth. That demon-kind and earth will be saved and we’ll be free to walk the earth with him, that Lucifer will have the ability to exercise his power over the legions of Hell from his place on earth.”

            “You just said that there was no prophecy of-“ argued Dean, and she rolled her eyes.

            “It says he’s _set_ _free_ , not that he escapes. It says that demons will be saved, but not that _he_ saves us, and _then_ that Lucifer is in a position of power. We tried setting him free and you saw how well _that_ turned out, and what he had in store for us- he hates us. If that had been what the prophecy actually meant, Lucifer wouldn’t have been stopped. The prophecy does not mean what we interpreted it to mean. So _yet_ _again_ , something else big and bad is going on.”

            “Where does this supposed prophecy even come from?”

            She arched a brow. “It’s inscribed on his Cage.”

            All three men paled. “And you believe Lucifer is going to get out again?”

            “Yes,” she said with absolute conviction and a nod.

            “But being that Plan A bombed out, you have no clue what it actually means is going to happen, do you?” questioned Sam in mounting horror.

            She considered the question a moment. “…No, I don’t. I know that this is big. Bigger than Hell. Bigger than Heaven, because if it weren’t, the Apocalypse would have gone through according to plan and Lucifer would be riding Sam like a prize pony.” The brunette man winced at the mental image, frowning like he’d eaten something sour. “I think it’s coming. Demons are getting infected with this disease and it’s spreading, monsters are going nuts, and all the prophets are missing. Whatever the hell is happening is on a cosmic scale.” She smirked at Dean, but when the hunter met her eyes he saw the rare flicker of fear in her eyes.

~*~

            Towel wrapped around his wet body, Dean pivoted in the small hotel bathroom. He’d brought his bag in here. In fact, he’d dumped it on the counter, before his phone rang and he’d gone out in the main room to pick it up and answer, talking to Bobby for a minute about their change in plans, that the case was finished and they were headed straight home because serious shit was about to go down.

            While he’d been on the phone with Bobby, Sam had been hastily packing their bags, going into the bathroom several times.

            Groaning, Dean opened the door, arms crossed as he leaned against the door jam, arching a brow. “Dude.” Sam glanced at him and then did a double-take, eye brows shooting up to his hairline. “Did you pack my bag knowing I was about to get a shower?”

            Sam coughed and averted his gaze, shutting his laptop and pushing to his feet. “If you hadn’t insisted on a shower, we could already be on our way back home.”

            “You didn’t walk around all of downtown in this miserable heat and humidity for hours, then wind up locked in a dog kennel,” Dean argued. “I felt disgusting and needed a shower before I spend some _eighteen hours_ trapped in the car to get back to Bobby’s.”

            There was a flutter of wings and then Castiel was standing in the center of the room facing Sam. “I’ve done the warding of Bobby’s house that you asked for so that neither angels or demons can locate it. Bobby said to assure you Sarah has a hex bag she got from friends for her protection -“

            “What friends?” demanded Dean, not trusting anyone he didn’t know to work that level of mojo. Cas turned his head to look at him, blinking with a start. His mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out. Dean looked at his brother and missed the tinge of pink on the angel’s face as he hastily began looking anywhere else. “Do you know? I knew she got some connections through hunting down cursed art pieces and stuff, but-“

            His brother held up a hand at him. “Dude, put some clothes on and then we’ll talk about it. You’re practically naked.”

            “Go get my bag out of the trunk and I’ll gladly put some clothes on. I can’t help they make these towels so small they barely cover what they’re suppose to.”

            Shaking his head, Sam disappeared from the room, keys in hand.

            Truth be told, Dean wanted to duck back in the bathroom and slam the door shut. He felt exposed and naked with Cas there. When it had been Sam, it had been fine. The towel covered what it was suppose to, barely, but it covered everything, and it had been Sam and they had pretty much lost all sense of modesty growing up in such close quarters with each other.

            But now he was dressed only in a towel while Castiel was in the room and it made the temperature in the room seem to go up several degrees.

Dean didn’t want to act as though anything were different than were he in his regular body, or because it was _Castiel_ rather than Sam. Granted, Cas had never seen him in a towel at all, but even if he had, Dean didn’t think it wouldn’t have been a big deal, so it shouldn’t be a big deal now that Dean was a girl. No, it still would be weird, even if Dean were in his regular body, because it was Cas, and not Sam, and that somehow made all the difference.

            He felt indecent and exposed with the angel suddenly in the room, more so now that the man was regarding him curiously. Dean felt a blush creep up his face.

            “What?”

            The angel’s gaze drifted and fell to settle on the hunter’s arm, the handprint there, and the corner of his mouth angled upward slightly. “I believe this is the first time I’ve actually really seen it.” His gaze flicked back up to Dean’s face. “Know that it was not intentional. I did not know my touch would brand into your soul. It was… an accidental side effect.”

            “Of grabbing me and dragging me from hell? Well it gives whole new meaning to ‘touched by an angel’,” he chuckled, glancing down at the handprint scar that seemed so much bigger now.

            The angel glanced away and shuffled his feet before lightly clearing his throat. “Uh, no. Retrieving souls from hell doesn’t leave a mark. Like I said, it was accidental. Even after I found you and was holding your soul, demons tried to fight me, to pull you back down. You clung to me so that they could not take you, and I fought back against them, shielding you with my grace, my sole instinctual thought being something akin to ‘mine’, that I would not allow them to have the Righteous Man, that I had saved you, and while I still existed they would not take you away.”

            Now Dean did flush, feeling more naked than ever. “Are you telling me my arm says ‘Property of Castiel’?”

            “Perhaps ‘Under the protection of Castiel’ would be a better phrasing.”

            Dean opened his mouth just as Sam came back, tossing Dean his bag. The blond kept one hand firmly gripping his towel, the other snatching the bag out of the air as it sailed his way. Now blushing, Dean ducked back into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning back against it and trying to remind himself how to breathe through the pounding of his heart. The hell was his deal lately?

            On the other side of the door, Dean could hear Sam asking Castiel if he was going to make the trip with them or meet up with them at Bobby’s. The angel actually opted for the long car ride.

            Later, when they stopped for fuel and snacks in preparation for the journey ahead of them, Cas wandered the gas station snack aisle a step behind Dean while the hunter loaded up on junk food.

            “I’ve been thinking,” Castiel began, lifting his head to gaze out the window to where Sam was filling up the car. “Your car is antiquated-“

            “Hey!” barked Dean, offended and glaring.

            The angel held up his hands. “That was not meant as a slight, only an observation.” Dean went back to grabbing Sam’s usual snack options and putting them in the basket resting in the crook of his arm and against his hip. “With as much as you travel, wouldn’t it be better to purchase a new car that gets better mileage and has other modern conveniences? I would think it would be safer as well, less risk of breaking down or needing to make repairs.”

            Green eyes fixed on the chocolate bars, Dean’s tongue rolled over his bottom lip in want before forcing his gaze away and grabbing his usual snack choices, which were strangely less appealing as a girl.

            “Time for your lesson in classic cars, Cas,” he said brightly, eyeing the bags of sour gummi candies. God he wanted them. He grabbed spicy peanuts instead, noting the way Cas was frowning in confusion, his blue eyes on the package Dean had been staring longingly at. “The ’67 Chevy Impala got sixteen miles per gallon on the highway back in the day, and was built when they had leaded gas, which they don’t anymore. They made the change in the ‘70’s and you had to make a mixture of unleaded and additives to make the car run, right? Which people did for a while, but it’s a hassle.”

            He moved away from the candy aisle and the temptation of certain snacks over to the coolers that lined the wall. “So in, what? Eighty-six? Eighty-seven? My dad started teaching me everything I know about cars. He did this while completely ripping her apart and putting in a whole new engine, fuel system, _everything_ , so it would run on unleaded fuel and got better gas mileage. Still not great, but definitely better. You want anything?” he asked suddenly, glancing at the man beside him. The angel shook his head and Dean continued, “The year my dad died and the car got totaled, I rebuilt her again over at Bobby’s and did the exact same thing, gutted her down to the frame and body, gave her a new engine and everything.” They headed over to the cash wrap, Dean steadily talking as the cashier rang up their items. “So while she started out getting sixteen highway miles, she now gets about thirty, which given the design of the frame and lack of aerodynamicy, I am not complaining. Sure you don’t want anything?” he asked as the cashier handed them the bag and they headed for the door.

            “I’m fine, Dean,” the seraph assured him as they left, the chime ringing above their heads as they exited. His steps faltered when a woman in a business suit at the corner of the building caught his eye.

            Dean saw her as well, both of them turning. “Cas?” He regarded him with a sideways glance.

            “Go to Sam, Dean. I will catch up before you get too far.”

            The hunter snorted. “That’s cute, Cas, but we aren’t actually leaving until you come with us,” he said, walking away.

            The angel cast his retreating form a look before moving to meet the blonde angel. “Rachel,” he said, inclining his head. “You have news?”

            She let her gaze slide to where the Winchesters were, Dean climbing up to sit on the trunk of the Impala while Sam was on his phone, gesturing with his free hand as he spoke. Her eyes moved back to her brother.

            “Your information was correct,” she admitted, and a sigh of disappointment escaped him. “We have looked in on all the prophets, or tried to, and have been unable to locate them. Many have been found in Heaven without actually having died-“

            Castiel shook his head. “That hasn’t happened since Elijah, though.”

            “It’s happening again. The others, including the Prophet Chuck, have not been accounted for. The potential prophets are all still alive and unawakened to their powers.”

            He nodded, cataloging all of this information. “And the other?”

            “We were also unaware of an affliction spreading through the denizens of Hell or what could be causing the monsters of earth to act so strangely.” She paused. “They are wanting to recall all angels back to Heaven, Castiel.” He looked up in alarm. “Demons were originally born from the fallen of our kind, there is no knowing if it can affect us. It’s not being implemented yet, but there is talk of quarantining Heaven, at least, until we have a better understanding of what is happening.”

            He nodded again. “Do what you feel you must, but know that I will stay on earth to protect humanity from threat. My place is here.”

            She nodded, looking reluctant to speak. She glanced past him to where Dean sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees and eyes trained on them, ready for one wrong move to send him into action. She returned her gaze to her brother and said, “Castiel… there may come a time when they will not give you the option to remain with him, for your own sake.”

            He nodded. “We will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I gave up my soul for your life, Sam,” his brother interjected. “What makes you think I wouldn’t do something just as crazy to save him?”

        Sam stood in the doorway between the library and the kitchen, his arms folded over his chest and frowning in disapproval as Dean deposited an arms load worth of snacks and junk food onto a low table he’d dragged in front of the couch before plopping back to sit, remote in hand. Castiel was already seated on one side of the couch, the blond right next to him.

            Smacking the available space left, Dean insisted, “Sit down, Sam. The movie is about to start.”

            The brunette shook his head, eyeing the new flat screen TV and bluray player Dean had come back with not even an hour ago, along with a clothe bag filled with used books.

            “Dean,” Sam began sternly, stepping purposefully in front of the TV. “ _What_ is going on?”

            His brother looked up with wide eyes, blinking. “What do you mean? We’re gonna have a movie night.”

            Sam’s bitchface grew even more severe, lips pressed in a thin line as his drew in an audible breath through his nose. Then, “Oh yeah? Is that why you had Cas put all the extra warding on Bobby’s house? So we could have movie night uninterrupted? Is that why you blew through the limit on our newest credit cards buying a new TV, bluray player, and all these movies? What about the bags of books you bought? I didn’t even know you knew there _was_ a Half Price Books in town. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On. Dean.”

            “We’re going to ground,” exclaimed Dean darkly as he shoved to his feet. “We are going to ground so hard we might as well be in a bomb shelter, but Bobby hasn’t built one yet, so we _can’t_.”

            “What?! Dean, we have a job to-“

            “I do not giving a flying _fuck_ about the job, Sam!” Dean roared at him, fists clench tight by his sides. “It is written on Lucifer’s _cage_ that he gets out again, that something _lets_ him out! Which means _Michael_ gets out, too! There is some disease infecting the demons and making them more unpredictable than ever, so much so it has the _other demons_ running scared and trying to snuff it out before it spreads. The prophets of God have all vanished off the face of the earth and are still mostly unaccounted for. _Heaven_ has _no clue_ what’s going on. Hell has no idea either and they’re running scared, Sam. _Scared_. That’s not to mention the monsters that have lost their minds lately, or the hunters that want our heads on sticks. Maybe you’ve got balls of solid steel, but I literally lost mine recently,” there was a muffled choking noise from Cas, “so I feel no shame in thinking we need to make like rugs and lay really fucking low for a while.”

            Glaring, Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Dean held up a finger, expression going even fiercer. “ _No_ , Sam. No. Something on a cosmic scale is apparently in the works and neither Heaven nor Hell have a _clue_ about it, but apparently, we have once again found ourselves in the middle of it. What do you think Michael and Lucifer are going to do when they’re let out of the Cage, hm? _Find. Us_.” His younger brother visibly blanched, whole body stiffening. Dean softened his tone. “We are going to ground. We rest and research until we find something. We keep tabs on everything going on out there and try to make some sense of it, so that when this all does hit the fan, whatever _this_ is? We aren’t _completely_ unprepared.”

            He blindly plopped back down to sit, nearly landing himself in Castiel’s lap. The elder Winchester drew his legs up to sit cross-legged, reaching out and tearing open a bag of chips.

            “You’re free to do what you want Sam, but tonight, I plan to educate Cas here in the ways of pop-culture. Chip, Cas?”

            The angel reached into the proffered bag, his other hand reaching into his coat pocket and pulling a brightly color bag of fruity candy out, offering it in kind. The candy Dean had been eyeing back at the gas station. “Thank you, Dean,” he said.

            The blond accepted the candy and tore the bag open, before giving his brother a pointed look, brow arched in question. Sucking in a deep breath, Sam threw up his hands it in defeat.

            “ _Fine_. What are we watching and where’s Bobby?” he questioned, moving into the kitchen and pulling two beers out of the fridge, before moving back to take a seat next to his brother.

            He offered one of the beers to Dean, who waved it off with a slight shake of his head, before saying, “ _Star Wars_ original trilogy. Bobby’s upstairs, finishing moving back into the Master now that he and Sarah made the upstairs into actual bedrooms again. You’re still in the small one, I get the other. You gotta check out the Master now that it’s not filled with sheet covered furniture and junk.”

            “Oh yeah?” Sam asked, frowning slightly in confusion as he set the declined beer on the table with all the snacks.

            “Whole second library, dude. If he goes into research mode, we may not see him for days. We’ll be leaving trays of food at his door and begging him to come out as he communicates with us through slips of paper shoved under the door. He probably has a mini fridge.”

            “I suppose we would really have to become concerned when the notes stopped,” commented Cas, shifting in his seat.

            Taking a sip of his beer, Sam considered the bottle for a moment, before frowning in confusion at his brother. “Since when have you ever turned down a beer, Dean?” He let his eyes glance over his brother’s current female body. “In fact, I haven’t seen you drink one since you left Lisa’s. Is it something to do with your girl body?”

            His brother blinked with a start, head snapping around to look at him. “What? No, dude.” He scoffed. “I gave up drinking months ago.”

            Sam’s eyebrows rose up to almost meet his hairline. “You _what_?”

            “Yeah. I was a complete mess when I first got to Lisa’s. At first, I drank too much, trying to, I dunno, drown out my other symptoms of grief and PTSD, whatever.” A blush crept across his cheeks as he spoke. “Then one morning, I’m sitting there drinking my coffee and nursing a hangover, and Ben is sitting across the table from me, watching me with this expression like… like he was curious, but also didn’t know if I was a bomb that could go off or something. My drinking was the one thing I had control over at that point, and it struck me I was setting a really poor example for a kid. I haven’t touched the stuff since.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I could curb back and do ‘in moderation’ given my current frame of mind back then, so I quit altogether. Not like it was helping anyway.”

            “Considering the bend toward complete alcoholism you were taking even before your brother died, I must say I’m relieved,” admitted Cas, side-eyeing the blond. “It’s also nice to know your instinct to protect the young and impressionable will never fade.”

            Dean grinned at him, faltering as his eyes trailed over the angel sitting beside him in the only clothes he ever wore. When they were out on the field it was one thing, but…

            “Cas, are you comfortable in that getup?” Sam leaned forward to peer around him, frowning.

            “Yeah, that doesn’t look comfortable.”

            The angel peered down at himself. “I am not _un_ comfortable, if that is what you are asking.”

            “Lose the coat,” suggested Sam, jerking his head toward the coat rack. “Just hang it up over there.”

            “Take off your suit jacket and loosen your tie as well,” added Dean, earning a bemused smirk from the angel as he did as he was told, before splaying his hands out to the side, waiting for the Winchesters’ approval.

            Sam nodded in satisfaction, while Dean gave a thumbs-up and wink, his attention returning to the television as the previews finished and main menu screen came up.

            “Prepare yourself for awesome,” announced Dean as the angel returned to his previous spot and all three of them settled into their seats.

            ~*~

            The light knocking on the bedroom door made Dean glance up from his book with a frown. “Yeah?”

            There was a pause, which he took as uncertainty, before the person in the hall asked, “May I come in?”

            Dean blinked with a start. “Uh, sure, Cas.” Between one breath and the next, the angel was suddenly standing at the foot of the bed, gaze casting around as if to avoid looking at Dean, who was dressed in pajama pants and t-shirt, leaning back against the pillows. “You knock now?”

            A tinge of pink actually colored the angel’s cheeks as he briefly cast the hunter a glance. “Sam suggested I not simply appear in your room if the door is shut. Given the other day in the motel, I thought it wise.”

            The blond snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’s actually not bad advice. Avoid embarrassing us both if I were changing.” His green eyes regarded the angel, ignoring the way he felt his own cheeks heat at the memory. “What’s up?”

            Tongue flicking out over his lip, the dark haired man glanced back at the door, making Dean frown. Setting his book aside, he sat up straighter, folding one leg and drawing the other up. Castiel glanced at the foot of the bed.

            “May I sit?” The blond snorted and waved at the spot, green eyes carefully studying the other man with an increasing sense of dread.

            “What’s wrong?” His voice was surprisingly controlled and neutral.

            Cas looked at him with a start, then softened, lip curling in the barest hint of a smile. “Nothing. I simply wanted your perspective on something because I know you will be honest.” Green eyes narrowed on him as the angel seemed to choose his words. “How would you feel were I no longer of any use to you?”

            The hunter jerked back slightly, startled by the question. “Not of any…? Cas, dude, need some context here, because-“

            “Hypothetically, in the upcoming battles were my grace, my ‘mojo’ as you say, no longer available or useful against whatever we are fighting… what would your response be?” Dean continued to frown. “Whatever is happening has already affected the monsters in this realm, and the denizens in the realm of Hell, it would be naïve to think angels are immune, though we might be, but there is that risk-“

            The blond held up a hand. “Cas, are you asking me if we’d, like, cut ties with you or something if you ever lose your angel powers?” The angel continued to peer back at him, unblinking, and the scoff that had been rising in Dean’s throat died off, abject horror taking its place. And wow. That hurt, actually, that Cas had to ask. “Nothing would change,” Dean told him, his voice low and hoarse. “You’ve been human before and fought beside us. If you woke up human tomorrow, the only thing to change would be sleeping arrangements. We’d help teach you how to fight as a human.”

            The angel nodded and asked, “And if I began showing symptoms the demons are showing? If I become… ‘rabid’ and lose control of my mind and actions?”

            Dean swallowed thickly, fear coiling heavily in his stomach. “I’d save you.”

            “We don’t even know the cause-“

            “ _I would save you, Cas_!” snapped Dean, angrily. They stared at each other. “I don’t know how, but I would find a way. Winchesters always find a way.”

            The angel nodded, looking away again. Dean got the feeling he had not answered correctly and frankly, this whole conversation was scaring him. A lot.

            He studied the angel’s profile. “Want to tell me why you’re asking?”

            Blue eyes turned to regard him, though his expression remained closed off and unreadable. “It would be foolish to not consider that I might be affected by whatever is going on as well, if not already, then eventually.”

            “So there isn’t something you haven’t told us yet?” A pause. “Something you haven’t told _me_?”

            The angel smiled and rose to his feet, turning so that he was looking down at where Dean was seated half cross-legged. “Nothing is wrong, Dean. I just wanted to make sure you were aware that there is a possibility the situation could continue to escalate, so that you would not be caught off-guard if it does.” He gestured at the book forgotten on the quilt. “I did not mean to interrupt your reading.”

            He turned to leave, by way of the actual door, and the fear gripping Dean hadn’t eased with the angel’s assurances.

            “Wait,” he called out, and the seraph stopped, glancing back inquiringly. His posture and expression were completely normal again.

Dean cast his eyes around for something to keep the other man from leaving. The hunter wanted him to stay, just a little while longer, just long enough for Dean to feel more certain that something wasn’t already horribly wrong that Cas was keeping from him. His eyes land on the shelf of newly purchased books.

“Do you like to read fiction, Cas?”

Turning, he considered the shelf of books like they were a new scientific discovery and curiosity. Dean took that as a ‘no’ well before the other man actually confirmed it.

“I have never actually done so,” he admitted, glancing at Dean. “It is… recreational? Angels are tireless warriors and have no need for it.” Reaching out one hand, Dean motioned for his friend to sit again, which he did, continuing to talk. “Jimmy liked to read in his spare time, as did Clare and Amelia, though they all had varying tastes in books.” His eyes drifted to the book on the bed, but his gaze was distant. “He and Claire would read together often. Taking turns reading chapters aloud to each other from various books.”

The blond settled back against the pillows again, head angled. “Oh? How does that work, exactly? The memory thing? Do you remember as he remembered or…?”

Cas shook his head, then tilted it. “Mostly it is like… gleaning information. I respected his privacy by not accessing his memories directly.”

The blond nodded. “How is Jimmy holding up in there?” he asked, hooking his chin at Castiel’s chest.

Peering down and then back up, Cas shook his head. “Jimmy is no longer here.” The hunter stilled. “He went above and beyond the call of duty, losing his life and family, then surviving my death twice like he did; I felt it only right to let him enjoy his own corner of Heaven. I promised to do my best to look after the vessel he had allowed me.”

Part of Dean wanted to say that he was glad Jimmy had been so foolishly devote, had believed without knowing what he was getting himself into, had opened the door that led to Dean gaining the most amazing friend he’d ever known. It was a horrible thing to think and he knew it, because the poor guy had suffered and lost everything, unfairly really, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to wish it hadn’t happened. Couldn’t say he wouldn’t trade Jimmy’s life for Castiel’s each and every time. So he was glad to hear he’d finally gotten a fair break, even while he couldn’t gain his life back.

“Well, that’s good, then. Glad you two worked it out and made peace with each other or whatever.” He cleared his throat and motioned to the books again. “You’re welcome to read any of them, if you’d like. I mean, if you’re determined to go to ground with us for however long it lasts.” He forced a tight smile. “More pop-culture education.”

He got an amused smile back in return. “Oh? What would you suggest?”

Sliding off the bed, Dean moved over to the books and plucked a brightly covered volume from the shelf before handing it over and climbing back in his original spot.

“You have to read _Harry Potter_. It’s a must. Everyone knows it even if they never read it or saw the movies.” As the dark haired man flipped over the book to read the back of it, Dean nudged his thigh with one socked foot, making the angel regard him curiously.

The blond nodded to the spot on the bed beside him, the sick coiling in his stomach not having dissipated, leaving him still afraid of what would happen if Castiel left his sight. “Get comfortable. Stay a while,” he invited, hoping the fear and pleading he felt weren’t noticeable in his voice, that the angel wasn’t reading any thoughts that passed through Dean’s head.

Smiling faintly, Castiel stood again, moving around to the other side of the bed, pulling off his coat and jacket and laying them over the chair in the corner, before toeing off his shoes and moving to sit against the pillows next to Dean. Some small bit of the tension in Dean’s body lessened at the sight of the other man getting comfortable, of Castiel picking the book up and turning to the first page to read.

Dean turned back to his own book, settling further back against the pillows, into the heat of the man quietly reading beside him, and a small smile eventually curled the corner of his mouth as comfortable silence settled over them both.

~*~

The next few days were busy regardless of going to ground. While Bobby had them at his disposal, he made use of the Winchesters and put them to work on long over due renovations and cleaning up of the salvage yard. Even Cas lent a hand as they pulled down boards from over windows and then later with giving the house a fresh coat of paint.

Dean called Becky to see what she’d learned over at Chuck’s and if she could give them any insight into the future, which she stubbornly refused to do. Apparently, letting them know the future in order to avoid danger put them in greater danger of the unknown, and negated the idea of their even having free will. All the arguing in the world hadn’t budged her on this, not even threats to show up in person to pull the notes for himself.

Cas left several times to parts unknown, and returned a short time later, much to Dean’s relief. Their talk the other night was still at the forefront of him mind and endlessly needled him with worry. Sam and Dean fielded calls for Bobby, talked to both Garth and Charlie again, and kept track of the growing list of monsters gone mad all across the country, all the while researching until their blurred vision forced them to take a break, to walk away and take aspirin for the thrumming headache that was pounding in their skulls from stress, worry, and over-strained eyes. Which led to Bobby yelling at both of them that overworking themselves before they even knew what was wrong wasn’t going to make them any good to anyone, and then he promptly ordered them onto some other project or repairs that needed to be done.

Sprawled across the couch with one leg hooked over the arm, Dean idly turned the page in his book. Sam was making notes on the map pinned to the wall, trying to make sense of the mess of multicolored pins and notations.

Dean’s head jerked up suddenly, glancing toward the kitchen. “Did you hear that?” He was already standing, eyes alert and focused in a way that had Sam moving to the desk for a weapon.

“What?” questioned Sam, but the blond shook his head.

“I thought I heard someone call me,” he stated, already moving toward the kitchen.

What he could see through the screen door made his blood freeze in his veins.

“Oh shit! Get Bobby!” he snapped. Castiel was in the middle of the yard, encircled by a ring of angels in business suits.

The sound of Sam yelling for the older man followed Dean as he darted out of the house, realizing belatedly he only had Ruby’s knife on him.

“Cas!”

The angel was regarding a woman, her brown hair pulled back in a bun. She glanced at Dean and one of the unknown angels broke formation, disappearing and reappearing in the hunter’s path. The suited warrior slipped behind Dean easily, marble arms snaking around the blond’s waist and holding him in place.

Dean kicked and fought uselessly a moment, practically snarling as he tried to twist his way out of the angel’s grasp. “Somebody better start explaining!” he demanded, just as his brother and Bobby came charging out as well.

Sam carried an angel blade, while Bobby was armed with a modified version of the Colt loaded with angel blade bullets. More angels flanked them suddenly, requisite fingers raised and poised to touch their temples, causing all three men to fall still, uncertain what would happen if the angels touched them.

The muscles in Castiel’s jaw twitched, worried eyes flicking to his friends, eyes meeting Dean’s for only a moment before regarding the woman before him.

“Naomi-“

She held up a hand toward the hunters, calling out clearly. “They are not to be harmed, but do not let them interfere.”

The arms around Dean tightened further, as if he weren’t already encased in stone. “Cas?” he called out, voice low and demanding. He hoped the fear he felt wasn’t audible, but all he’d felt the night before was back with a vengeance.

Castiel ignored him, keeping his attention focused on Naomi instead, who was smiling business-like at him. “Need I bother asking how you even found me here?” he demanded.

Her smile grew a little more pronounced. “Castiel. I’m in a separate division with the highest security clearance, as it were. Only wards written by the scribe of God would actually be able to keep me out.” Her expression fell, and she stepped once towards Cas. “I did not want this, brother, but you are leaving me no choice-“

“You have the choice to stand beside humanity-“

She inclined her head. “I suppose so, but I follow orders. I ensure orders are followed. You have disobeyed orders, Castiel. Repeatedly even. We have been summoning you, ordering you to return to Heaven, just as we have ordered all of the Host. You have ignored the order. Your more concerned siblings have even come to you- Yes, I know about your visits from Rachel and Samandriel. Nothing happens without my knowledge, Castiel. They begged you to come home, and you continue to refuse. What choice have you left me?” He opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand. “Yes, I know you disagree, but I happen to think you are making a foolish choice. We are simply stepping back in order to gain time and information. It is strategic, Castiel, not cowardice. It is foolish of you to _bravely_ stand your ground against an unknown foe while blind and unarmed.” She smiled kindly, taking a step forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here to _save you_ , Castiel.”

Squaring his shoulders, Cas stood to his full height, glaring. “I do not need saving.”

Her hand drifted down to pat where his heart was. “Oh, but you do, brother.” Her gaze slid sideways, locking with Dean’s, and he tugged viciously at the angel restraining him. She returned her gaze to her brother. “The question remains: will the humans you love so dearly save you as well?” Her splayed hand sunk into his chest with a blinding light, Castiel’s eyes widening and mouth falling slack in pain. Dean stared in horror as she leaned forward whispering, “This is not a punishment, Castiel. May you live to appreciate it.”

Hand fully submerged in his chest, her wrist turned and an agonized scream ripped from her brother’s throat, head thrown back and light pouring from the wound in his chest. Dean’s own scream mixed with the sound as Naomi began to withdraw her hand, in it an orb like a burning star.

In an instant, Dean had Ruby’s knife out, reaching up and shoving it through the throat of the angel that restrained him, startling him enough that the blond was able to get free, scrambling forward desperately, nearly losing his footing as he tried to get to his friend. The angels that had been restraining the other two men fell to the sides, letting them by just as Dean reached Castiel, catching the angel as he went slack at the knees.

The blond had his arms locked tight around him, while the angel’s head lolled back, eyes vacant and unseeing. He patted one hand to the angel’s cheek, trying to rouse him.

“No, no, c’mon, Cas. Wake up! Don’t do this. Look at me!”

His head snapped around to Naomi as she handed off the ball of grace to one of her subordinates.

“Give him that back!” he barked at her, eyes tracking the orb.

She smiled. “These are the consequences of his choices, Dean. It is not unjust.”

For the first time, Dean wished he had his demonic abilities again, wanted to leave her nothing but a smudge of ash on the ground. “Bitch, you don’t know anything about consequences, not yet. Fix him, or I _promise_ you I will bring war on you and Heaven unlike _anything_ you have ever seen,” he snarled viciously.

Sam and Bobby reached them then, Sam taking an offensive stance by Dean’s side, while Bobby covered them, pointing his angel gun at any that so much as moved.

The brunette woman smiled, hands clasped in front of her. “One day, you’ll understand.” Her blue eyes shifted to her brother’s vacant expression. “If you can save him, that is. Word of advice? Don’t let go until you know he’s okay.”

She vanished in a flutter, the other angels disappearing right afterward. Then Sam was right there kneeling at Dean’s side, hands dancing awkwardly over the angel’s form, while Dean continued to try and get Castiel to respond.

The angel’s skin was clammy and breathing shallow. Sam grabbed for Cas’ wrist before swearing a blue streak and looking at the house. “He’s in shock. We’ve got to get him inside. Here, I’ll carry him.”

The elder Winchester tightened his arms around the angel, Cas’ head limp against his shoulder now, eyes closed. “What? She just said I can’t let go-“

“Dean, just until we get him inside-“

“Sam, I am _not_ letting go. I’ll help you carry him or something!”

They did finally manage to get Cas inside and on the couch, Dean sitting at his side, clasping one of the angel’s hands in his, the fingers of his free hand constantly monitoring the other man’s pulse, before all three men were yelling over each other, Sam pacing with his hands in his hair, Bobby flipping through his book of contacts.

“Who do we call about this?” Sam questioned.

“Call everybody!” ordered Dean. “ _Any_ body who might be able to give us some clues.”

“I really don’t think an angel gettin’ stripped of his grace is something anybody is gonna have experience with,” Bobby pointed out. “They’ve been off planet a good long while, remember?”

“Then call _Crowley_ or somebody!” Dean hated the panicked desperation evident in his voice, the way it cracked when he spoke. “Call in that favor he owes us.”

“Dean, I don’t think a _demon_ is going to be able to heal an _angel_ -“ Sam yelled back.

“He’s a crossroads demon! All they _do_ is the impossible! They brought both of us back to life, didn’t they?”

“Oh it’s not quite as simple as that, I’m afraid,” a cultured voice cut in. They glanced up to see the demon standing with his hands in his pockets, brows raised and gaze locked on the angel.

All the air left Dean’s body in a sigh of relief, never thinking he’d be so glad to see the other man. “Crowley.”

The king of Hell glanced at him, arching one brow a little higher. “You rang.”

Bobby set down the contact book he'd been flipping through, while Sam eyed the newest arrival hopefully.

“Dean’s got a point,” he agreed. “You have to be able to do something, or at least know something-“

Crowley held up a finger, and the taller man fell silent. He glanced up at the Key of Solomon on the ceiling, watching idly as a crack appeared through the outermost lines, before he entered further into the room, gesturing to Cas’ prone form.

“Do you know what’s happening here? What took place out there?”

“She ripped out his grace-“

“Yes, yes, I know that’s what you _saw_ , but do you know exactly what is going on and why this is not the way things are usually done?” Glancing down, green eyes played over Castiel’s face, before Dean looked up and shook his head. Crowley sighed, tiredly. “Plain and simple: your boyfriend there is dying. He’s staying alive, barely, because his heart is trying to follow the pattern of yours, the spark of what would eventually become his soul his hanging on to yours, using it as a guide, an anchor. I’m guessing you were told not to let go and that’s why you’re so clingy?”

Dean nodded. “She said not to let go until I knew he was okay.”

“Here’s a lesson for you boys: when an angel’s grace is removed, they are typically reborn as a human, an infant. Do you know why? For this reason right here. Human aren’t conceived and instantly in possession of a soul. The soul is a spark at first, that grows as the embryo does, the mother’s soul is the anchor, feeding into the fledgling and keeping it alive. You can’t have something from nothing. For a soul to be created, it has to be anchored to another until it is stable.”

“Then anchor his to mine,” Dean said instantly.

The demon’s mouth curled in a smirk, while Sam and Bobby both snapped their gazes to stare at him in horror.

“Dean!”

“ _What_?” demanded the blond, glaring at his brother. “I’m not selling my soul! Crowley owes us a debt and I’m calling my part in.”

“Yeah, but Dean-“

“I gave up my soul for your life, Sam,” his brother interjected. “What makes you think I wouldn’t do something just as crazy to save him?”

“You idjits need to stop dealing in souls altogether,” exclaimed the older hunter.

Dean glared at him, then looked at Crowley. “This _isn’t_ a deal, though, right?”

The demon shook his head. “No. I’m tying your soul to his. That will keep his spark of a soul from extinguishing and he’ll survive. Sounds simple, at least.”

“And then you unbind their souls once Cas is in the clear?” pressed Sam, expression grim.

The king of hell clicked his tongue. “Afraid that isn’t actually possible. Bound souls cannot be unbound. It won’t affect anything, and I’d say you’ve already got a partial soul-bond already, what with that handprint and touch of his grace on you from putting you back together. Consider it returning the favor, if you will.” His gaze drifted over the angel again. “Now, I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, but we need a decision now rather than later, as he doesn’t have much time.”

“Yes,” said Dean, just as Sam insisted, “No!”

The elder of the two glared hot fury at his sibling, who held up his hands. “Dean, I just think we should try some other avenues first. Make some phone calls. Hell, summon the angel who did this and force _her_ to make it right.”

The demon made a humming sound as he removed his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. “Oh I can assure you _that_ won’t work.” He met the eyes watching him demandingly and sighed in a put upon manner. “Heaven slammed the doors. Angels are on lockdown. Whatever is happening to demons might possibly be able to happen to them, as demons were first born from angels, so they put themselves in quarantine.” He nodded at Castiel. “My guess: in order to allow him to stay on earth, since there’s no way they could drag him away from you Winchesters, she removed his grace to ensure he couldn’t get infected _if_ that’s even possible. If he dies, he’d probably angel-up again, which serves their purposes as well. He’d be back in Heaven like they original ordered, and stuck there.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, before meeting Dean’s gaze. “Clock’s ticking, Winchester. Time for the ‘till death do we part’ if you want to save him.”

The blond set his jaw. “Do it.”

The demon smiled and took a seat behind Dean, his chest to the hunter’s back. Crowley placed one hand on Dean’s left shoulder, over the mark partially hidden by his shirt. “Switch hands,” he instructed lowly, Dean immediately changing from holding Cas’ hand with his right hand, to his left, before Crowley took his right hand, placing it on Cas’ chest, where Dean and Sam had their tattoos. The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly. “This is the unconventional method, so this is probably going to hurt…”

That was all the warning Dean got before the searing pain hit his every nerve ending and Dean was screaming.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie gingerly raised one hand in the air. “Anyone else feel like their hair is standing on end?” They all raised a hand. “Oh good,” she squeaked. “Not alone in the bone chilling terror then.”

It was dark when Dean finally regained consciousness, groaning with pain as he did, not wanting to open his eyes as he tried to piece together why he hurt so badly from head to toe. He shifted, relaxing against the warm body beside him.

That brought him up short, eyes flying open as he pushed himself up, one hand planted on the chest of the person he’d been lying beside. An afghan fell off his shoulders at the movement and green eyes stared down at Cas’ sleeping face in complete confusion.

“What the-“

“Crap!” hissed Sam, flailing out of chair by the desk and making a vague gesture with his hand. “Lay back down, Dean,” he insisted, coming around to kneel next to the couch.

“Dude, what?”

Sam forcibly pushed him down so that he was laying with his head on Cas’ chest again, carefully repositioning one of Dean’s hands over the angel’s heart.

“And don’t push on his chest again, thing is gonna hurt like a bitch when he wakes up as is.”

That brought things crashing back to him and he shifted, trying to see Cas’ face. “Is he gonna be okay?” There were shadows under his brother’s eyes when Dean looked at him again, his hair hanging lank around his face. “Are _you_ okay, Sammy?”

His brother glared at him. “If you don’t stop scaring me like this, I swear to God, Dean!” Green eyes narrowing angrily, the blond opened his mouth to argue, but Sam waved him off with a careless gesture. “Until Cas wakes up, you can’t stop touching him, more specifically, your heart doesn’t need to. Even when he does wake up, you two are gonna have to spend a day or two in almost constant physical contact-“

“What?!”

“Those are the breaks, man. You wanted to save him? This is what it takes. The alternative is he’s turned into an embryo and has to be born like what _normally_ happens when an angel’s grace gets cut out. I like Cas, but I don’t want to raise him.” Sam waved the thought away at the look of horror on Dean’s face. “A couple of days of almost constant contact, then close proximity for the next few weeks until his new soul stabilizes. Crowley said he’d check in a few times to make sure everything is fine.”

When Sam rubbed a hand over his face, Dean noted the dark circles under his eyes and wondered how much time had passed. His brother continued, his voice instructional, “You can only break contact for a couple of minutes. One of you will have to be in the room while the other takes a shower-“

Dean groaned and let his face drop to Cas’ chest, but Sam clearly had no sympathy for his brother’s mortification.

“You’ll work out some kind of system,” Sam snapped flatly. “Deal with it.” He pushed to his feet again, glancing at them once before pulling the afghan back over his brother’s shoulders. “And get comfy. I’m going to bed, you jerk.”

“Bitch,” groused his brother with a sigh, letting exhaustion sweep over him as he glowered into the dim light of the room and listened to Sam’s footfalls on the stairs and then overhead.

Sighing, Dean lifted his head, trying to peer at Castiel. It was still strange to see him sleeping. This wasn’t like the other times Cas had been essentially human after having been cut off from Heaven. He’d never been violently forced into humanity; Dean worried how Castiel would react this time.

Settling back down, Dean rested his head against the former angel’s chest and let his eyes shut, allowing the steady rise and fall of the other man’s chest to lull him back to sleep while trying very hard not to think about what the alternative to a human Castiel would be no Cas. Any embarrassment or inconvenience was worth the trade off.

The next time he woke up hours later, it was to a pair of blue eyes glaring angrily at him and the low rumble of a lecture on reckless behavior. Apparently, Sam had already filled Cas -who had been surprised to wake up at all- in on the current situation while Dean had been out cold. Being a soul anchor was more like a battery drain than something that ties you to a plane of existence. He’d only managed a glare and mumbled retort before drifting back off to sleep, feeling irritated, but lethargic and warm.

Frankly, Dean was surprised he didn’t get chewed out more by anybody.

He thought he had more reason to be mad at Cas for keeping it from him that he’d pretty much known Heaven would step in and take measures in regards to his refusal to return to home; that Cas had apparently fully expected to A) be cut off from Heaven and become human that way or B) be stripped of his grace and left to die or C) executed, and he’d been infuriatingly unaffected by any of these, so long as defying orders gave him that much more time to stay with the Winchesters and help them for as long as possible.

Sam and Bobby left them alone downstairs to have their fight, the two men retreating to field calls and do research from Bobby’s room.

Dean was straddling Cas’ hips, arms draped over the former angel’s shoulders, positioned so he could glare even while keeping their torsos in contact.

“I can’t believe you would do this,” Dean said, angry and a little wounded. The ‘to me’ went unsaid and hung heavily in the air.

It wasn’t just about Dean. Losing Cas would affect all of them, but it would be Dean it would hit the hardest, and he really couldn’t imagine that, didn’t know if he could survive that kind of grief again, that raw consuming loss.

“What would you have had me do?” Cas asked, arching a brow challengingly.

Dean narrowed his gaze. “You should have come clean the other night when you came and talked to me! We would have been better prepared, not blindsided! I’d have been able to fight to protect you, Cas, but you took away that option!”

“Allowing you to try and fight them would have been allowing you to commit suicide,” Cas snapped back. “I knew whoever they sent after me would be the best, and that they would come in number expecting my resistance. I could not send you into that fight.”

“But I already told you I can’t go through what I went through with Sam again. You are my family as much as he is and I-“ He cut off, swallowing thickly and fighting back the pin prick behind his eyes brought on at the memory of the other man unresponsive in his arms, the thought of the angel not opening his eyes ever again. “I can’t survive that, Cas,” he said finally, flat and cold. “We could have fought them together, even if we lost, we still would have fought, which is better than what you did by choosing to willingly accept whatever fate they decided for you.”

He leaned forward to rest his jaw on Cas’ shoulder, arms wrapped around him, while the angel’s tighten around him. It was a mockery of a hug, both too mad to even look at the other one in their fight anymore, but unable to walk away, to storm angrily from the room slamming doors behind them.

“You think I shouldn’t be angry with you?” Castiel challenged in his ear. “To wake up and find out that I was saved because you had your soul bound to mine? Do you know what that has cost you?”

“Nothing I wasn’t willing to give,” snapped Dean, glaring at the wall.

“If you have a soul mate in the world, the bond between your souls will never be able to be made. Your soul will not instantly recognize theirs, and in passing, you may be deprived of sharing each other’s heaven-“

“I don’t care about that!” barked Dean, shoving backward to grasp Cas’ head, his fingers in dark hair and thumbs against the angel’s jaw, feeling the way the muscles flexed as Cas clenched his teeth. Their noses were almost touching as Dean glared furiously at the other man, willing him to look at him and really see Dean, to hear what he was saying. “I don’t care about _any_ of that, about ‘if’s or what could be in the future with someone I have never met, may never meet. I. Care. About. _You_. Cas. I care about keeping you alive and keeping you safe _now_. And if that means I have to make you my soul mate or whatever to fucking do it, then that is what the hell I am going to do!” His thumb stroked over Cas’ skin almost it’s own volition, Dean still struggling to accept that the angel was really there and not about to be snatched away by the God squad again. As mad as he was at Castiel, he couldn’t bear the thought of a world without him in it. Rather than saying something as sappy as that, he glared instead, threatening, “You pull a stupid stunt like that again, and I swear to God I will kill you myself, Cas.”

The other man opened his mouth, but Dean shook his head, pivoting in the circle of Cas’ arms so that he was leaning against his chest, while one hand grappled for the remote and turned on a movie.

“I can’t talk to you right now, so don’t.”

 

They spent the rest of the day not talking to each other unless they had to, even while maintaining contact between their bodies and spending more time asleep in each other’s arms than they spent awake.

It’s hard to stay mad at someone when you keep falling asleep against them, but they both gave it a valiant effort.

Even when they could stay awake for longer periods of time, constantly having to maintain body contact while remaining comfortable was difficult. Dean had already helped Cas out of his trench coat and jacket, tossing them haphazardly to the side with the childish delight of knowing he was forcing Sam to pick them up whenever his brother came back through the room.

“My legs need a break, Dean,” Cas stated apologetically.

Closing his book, Dean set it aside and pivoted, arms immediately going around Cas’ shoulders, chests pressing together as he shifted, moving to straddle his friend’s lap, holding himself up and off of the other man’s legs some.

“Okay. What do you want to do?” He glanced out the window where Bobby was still working on his tow truck, half-buried in the engine. “We can go outside if you want, you can help me work on Bobby’s truck and I’ll teach you more about cars.”

They’d done that the last time they’d needed a break, to get out of the room and off the couch they’d been confined to for almost two days. Dean had let Cas carry him out there, then stood on a chair behind Cas, leaning against the angel’s back and pointing over his shoulder while the angel worked on the truck. “Okay, you see where it connects to the- no, the other one, look where I’m pointing, yeah, that one, you need to disconnect it first. Do you remember what I told you it’s called and what it does?” Meanwhile, Sam had sipped his beer and grinned fondly, probably remembering his own car repair lessons with Dean.

Cas shook his head. “No, I would just like to change positions to something more comfortable.”

“Y’know,” a voice drawled, making them both turn their heads to regard Crowley who stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. “Sex is usually a lot easier without clothes on,” Dean frowned in confusion, “so before you go deciding on positions, perhaps it would be best to undress each other first as part of the foreplay.” A blush began to creep up Dean’s neck, just as the demon smiled. “Don’t let me stop you; just pretend I’m not even here.”

The blond looked back at the man whose lap he was straddling with sudden realization and horror, blush burning hot under his skin until even his ears were warm.

Castiel was giving Crowley an unimpressed look. “You say that only because you are jealous he is riding my lap instead of yours.”

Which made Dean bark a laugh and hide his face in Cas’ shoulder, body shaking with silent amusement.

The king of Hell smirked, turning his head to watch Castiel from the corner of his eye. “Ah yes, but who can make him scream faster?”

Dean glared at that, lifting his head to glower as he remembered the blinding pain that had hit him when Crowley had done the soul binding. Frowning in confusion, Cas looked questioningly at Dean.

“Why would a person _want_ to scream during sex?”

Blushing again, Dean’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Dude. I am not answering _any_ of your sex questions. You can borrow Sam’s laptop and headphones.” Cas smiled at him then, and Dean realized he’d been teasing. In return, Dean ground himself down against Cas, earning himself a stifled sound of surprise and a wide-eyed panicked look.

Dean grinned cheekily before moving to slide in behind the angel, sitting so his back was to Cas’, not noticing the way a deep blush encompassed Castiel’s face, the other man blinking rapidly and swallowing. He shifted in a way Dean took to mean he was trying to reposition his legs more comfortably. Dean was incorrect in this assumption.

“A little more warning than ‘this might hurt’ would have been appreciated,” Dean told Crowley, glaring. “I haven’t been in that much pain since the first time Alistair skinned me alive.”

“Ah, you never forget your first flaying,” commented the demon fondly, while Dean continued to give him an unimpressed look. “I’ve come to check on the patient,” he said, eyes sliding to Castiel, a brow arching. “I take it no surprises have, uh, popped up?”

The angel turned even darker, refusing to look at the demon while shifting his legs again, drawing one knee up.

Dean remained oblivious, turning his head to regard Crowley. “You mean the angels or something?”

“Or something,” he chuckled. Cas turned to glare at him and the other man held his hands up. “Down boy, I’m a friendly, remember? The reason you’re still alive is because this one here,” he nodded towards Dean, “was in such a panic when he suggested they call me for help that I heard him all the way in hell. I think _all_ the crossroads demons heard him.”

Dean glared. “He was dying in my arms after getting his grace ripped out right in front of me. _Yeah_ , I was a little panicked.”

The demon’s eyes flicked red for a moment, raking over Cas before going back to normal and returning to Dean. “Well, he should be fine. Give it another day before you two break contact for any period of time, but stay within a few feet of the other one. You’ll know if you get too far apart.” He angled his head considering. “If you two did decide to have some nasty fun with each other, it would cement his soul a lot faster, what with being bonded mind, soul, _and_ body.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “You just want to know what we’d look like naked together.”

A smirk twisted the demon’s lips, his brow arching. “Don’t you?” he questioned, before vanishing from sight.

Glaring at the spot the demon had been standing, Dean sighed and dropped his head back against Cas. “I just want a hot shower at this point,” he admitted longingly.

 

 

After a couple of days of not being able to leave the other one for any longer than to go to the bathroom, Dean was so ready for a shower, he wasn’t even worried about the fact that Cas would be in the room with him. He’d gotten them both clean clothes and then grabbed a book for them to take turns reading aloud while the other got a shower, hopefully distracting from the rather awkward circumstances and the fact that only a thin shower curtain separated them.

Cas read facing the wall while Dean got in and then out of the shower, before they switched off, Castiel handing the book over and Dean picked up reading where he’d left off as fabric shuffled behind him.

“Dean?” Cas called, making the hunter stiffen at the guarded warning in his voice. “Look at this.”

He turned around cautiously, book lowered to his side with a finger wedged between the pages. His breath caught. Castiel had his shirt off, blue eyes fixed on Dean, waiting, before they trailed down to his chest and the obvious handprint there.

Dean swore, the memory of Crowley placing Dean’s hand in that exact spot vivid in his mind. He crossed the space, lifting his right hand to place it over the mark, frowning even as he felt the hum of electricity spark through him at the contact.

“I didn’t know it would leave a mark when he did it…” His hand fell away. “I’m sorry, Cas. I didn’t realize- I…”

Dean regarded it for a moment, brows drawn together as his hand idly came to cover the same spot on his own chest, knowing he had a protection tattoo there beneath the soft material of his shirt. They would have to get Cas inked now that he was human, he realized, and that thought made his stomach turn sourly.

Castiel, an angel of the Lord, was… vulnerable now. Mortal. Would have to get an anti-possession tattoo, could get hurt on their hunts now, would age, could and _would_ eventually _die_ , and though Cas would never say it, it was Dean’s fault and he knew it. The angel had placed his faith in Dean -and Sam- and decided to stand by them, and it had done nothing but come back to cause the angel grief.

He’d wanted to protect Cas, to save him, but now it felt more like he’d condemned his friend. To pain and sickness and-

“Dean?” His head angled, searching eyes regarded the blond. “What’s wrong?”

Schooling his features, Dean met Cas’ gaze, arching a brow. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I am locked in a small room with a half naked angel.” He held up a finger, spinning away. “That _has_ to be blasphemy and I am not going back to hell. Hurry up and get your shower.”

He flipped the book open again and began reading.

 

 

When they made it back downstairs, they pulled up short at the sight of Charlie Bradbury sitting at the kitchen table with Bobby and Sam.

“Charlie?” There was no way the redhead could actually be there.

She looked up at the sound of her name, then blinked with a start and pushed to her feet, crossing the room. “Oh wow. Garth really wasn’t kidding.” She grinned, nodding as she considered him, head angling back and forth. “It’s not a bad look. You still look like you, if that makes sense.”

Sam choked on his coffee, making the woman frown then realize her words. “Oh! Not that I was calling you a pretty guy or girly or-“

Dean waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Sam’s just jealous I got all the good looks, while he has to settle for being freakishly tall,” he quipped, while Charlie and Cas nodded in greeting to each other, an effortless smile on her face. “What brings you here?”

Cas shadowed him as he moved into the kitchen, and then leaned against the sink while Dean fixed himself a cup of coffee, then fixed a second for the man beside him.

Charlie held out a hand, expression going severe. Sam handed over her iPad, and she held it up so Dean and Cas could see the blown up grainy image.

“I need your help or more people are going to die,” she said solemnly.

 Dean let his gaze flick to Sam, his brother understanding the unasked question. He nodded. “It’s a legitimate case. Haunted house in Savannah.”

Once again seated, Charlie began browsing through applications and boxes on the screen of her tablet. “Garth is busy with a nest of kobolds in a mine or something, and couldn’t help me with it. You’re the only other hunters I know. They have just been informing me you two are sort of on medical leave, though.” She looked up at Castiel as he took a sip from his coffee. “Congrats on your new soul. Sorry your siblings are dicks who took your grace. That blows.”

“It does indeed,” he agreed, while Dean smiled into his coffee at Charlie’s summation of the current situation.

 Focus returned to the device in her hands, Charlie brought up a picture of a newspaper article, zooming in on a grainy picture of a blockish Victorian house looking washed out and ominous.

  “Okay, so this is 432 Abercon, the most haunted house in Savannah, Georgia, apparently. I need someone to go with me to put the ghosts of whatever to rest, or to make sure there aren’t any ghosts, but I need backup to make sure the house is safe.”

Leaning against the counter with one arm over his stomach, his elbow propped on it with coffee in hand, Dean flicked his gaze from the article to her, shaking his head. “Legitimate case or not, you cannot go on a hunt, Charlie. You’re a civilian.”

“Yeah, I totally got that memo when you and I tag-teamed a graveyard of the undead together like the BAMF head-shot killers we are.” She waved a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. “Okay, look, normally, I wouldn’t push it, I’d leave you to get to it in your own time, but these idiots are planning to go spend a weekend in the house for their web series, and if this place is really as violently haunted as the stories say, they are so, so dead.” She looked pointedly across the table at Bobby. “You and Sam could come help me-“

 Bobby snorted. “That is for the younger generation. I can show up in a suit, but I’m not as spry in a fight as I use to be. It’s why I keep these idjits around.”

She looked at Sam who held up his hands and shrugged. “No way is Dean letting me go on a hunt like that without him as my overprotective backup.” He regarded one of the printouts she had brought with her. “And we’re probably dealing with multiple ghosts, which means we need multiple people.”

She huffed in irritation, looking back at Dean. “Then I need other people to send, but this really needs to be looked into or we are sending a bunch of incompetent morons with cameras to their long overdue deaths.”

Dean and Sam both stilled at that, eyes meeting before they regarded Charlie. “Incompetent morons?” they asked in unison.

 She was tapping and swiping away at her iPad again. “Yeah. I mean, okay, to someone who’s never actually met hunters they seem possibly legit, but they are basically role-playing and end up scaring each other more than finding anything supernatural. Ed is a complete self-absorbed _ass_ that seriously has a skewed view of the world, and Harry is just-“ Her words fell off when both Winchesters groaned, Sam dropping his face into a hand. “You’ve heard of them?”

“Worse,” admitted Sam, the sound muffled by his palm.

 “We’ve met them. Repeatedly.” Castiel nudged Dean, giving him a questioning look. The hunter waved dismissively, hating the words in his mouth. “The Ghostfacers. They’re-“

But Cas rolled his eyes, cutting him off. “Oh. Them.”

Which had everyone in the kitchen looking at him in surprise. “ _You’ve_ met them?”

Nodding, he said, “I’d forgotten their names, but unfortunately not them.” He frowned into the middle distance, lips pursed before admitting, “I have no idea how they’re still alive. Charlie’s assessment of them is quite accurate.”

“They might not be for much longer if we don’t get there before them,” she insisted. “They’ve already announced it as their next show.”

Groaning, Sam wiped a hand over his face and rose to fix himself another cup of coffee. “That’s a twenty-four hour drive from here. Why couldn’t you have called us when we were in Alabama?”

He only got a shrug in response. Dean looked at Bobby. “Do you have anybody in that area?”

Taking a deep breath, Bobby’s gaze slid to the phones lining the wall. “Oh I definitely do, but I can’t guarantee when they’ll get to the house to look into it.”

Sam gave Dean a forlorn look. “Do you ever get the feeling we do everything?”

Sighing, Dean set his coffee aside. “Oh we definitely do everything. C’mon, Cas. Time to pack a bag.” He glanced  at him over his shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be getting ‘Hunting as a Human 101’ lessons earlier than expected.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage, Dean.”

Manage, sure, but Dean had wanted to go to ground and actually stay there a while; couldn’t really fault the angels for doing the same, expect that he completely did. On top of which, he really didn’t want to end up running into Ed, Harry, and the Scooby Gang again. He might kill them himself the next time he saw them.

~*~

Charlie, of course, came with them on the hunt, refusing to left behind, and the four of them piled into the Impala together for the long drive and then headed straight to the house known simply by its street address once they arrived. They parked a few blocks away and stood in Calhoun Square looking at the house.

“That house is unholy,” Cas said gravely.

“Definitely haunted,” agreed Sam.

“So glad we came,” Dean drawled sarcastically.

Charlie gingerly raised one hand in the air. “Anyone else feel like their hair is standing on end?” They all raised a hand. “Oh good,” she squeaked. “Not alone in the bone chilling terror then.”

Dean cast his brother a sidelong glance. “Sam, what are we looking at here, exactly?”

“There is no ‘exact’,” Sam admitted. “Everything is unofficial, but even among the unofficial the same stories keep cropping up in exact detail. Forget the house for a moment? Most of this town is built on what was once a graveyard.”

Head falling back, Dean stared blankly at the sky. “Peachy.”

“As far as the house goes: it was built by a Confederate general by the name of Benjamin J. Wilson in 1868 and was pretty much cursed to begin with. His wife died of yellow fever. He later accidentally killed his daughter in a punishment gone wrong. General Wilson died in the house as well, though apparently of natural causes.” He sucked in a sharp breath, continuing, “Almost a hundred years after the house was built, there was a triple murder here of three girls. It was never solved. A man lived here for a while about a decade ago and suddenly vanished. It was also rented out to a bunch of college kids who reported hearing all kinds of sounds: bumping, creaks, and- most disturbing- _giggling_.” He gestured vaguely toward the house and then at the air around them. “The locals aren’t comfortable discussing the house and will cross the street rather than walk by it on the sidewalk because of the palpable dark aura.”

Nodding, Dean glanced around, noting the school behind them. Having a haunted house directly across the street from an elementary school would definitely do well in keeping the legend alive.

“We are being observed,” Castiel announced, making Dean jerk his head back around, all of them looking at the window the angel indicated.

A little girl stood there watching them through the dingy glass window.

Sighing, Dean scratched the back of his head. “Okay. What are our options here? What are we dealing with?”

Charlie looked at him like he’d parted with his sanity. “Um, haunted house? What with the _ghost_ currently _staring_ at us _from the window_?”

“Could also be another Tulpa,” countered Dean, glancing at his brother while hooking his thumb over his shoulder. Sam regarded the school for a moment before shooting a glare at his brother.

“We are not burning the house down, Dean,” Sam stated flatly; Dean raised his hands innocently before Sam regarded the house again. “It has to be a genuine haunting. A Tulpa wouldn’t explain this bad feeling. We need to do an exorcism of the house or something.”

“You are ignoring the fact that the house is built on unholy ground,” stated Cas, turning. He frowned at Charlie in confusion as she took pictures of the house on her phone, then one of Cas for good measure, grinning at him. “If we can simply bless the grounds, that may take care of the problem.”

Sam nodded, looking the property over and cataloging all the entry points. “Well, that’s a good enough place to start. Place looks easy to get into. Problem is our complete inability to use guns while on this case.”

Charlie clicked her teeth, eyeing all the other buildings. “Oh yeah. Cops would get called so fast.”

Stepping away, Dean began making his way back toward the Impala, plucking at Cas’ shirt to gain his attention; the angel instantly followed. It was still strange to see Cas in regular clothes, currently wearing an open black button down over a gray t-shirt with a pair of jeans.

“C’mon. We’re gonna need supplies, then,” he announced over his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the man beside him, fully able to see for himself why Cas had gotten so many appreciative looks the past couple of days every time they’d stopped somewhere.

Dean didn’t want to think about the fact that his brain was pointing out Castiel’s blatant attractiveness, that the angel kept making him do a double-take. He was _Cas_ and they were _friends_. Their relationship had always been outside the parameters of normal, too intense, too… too many things Dean couldn’t really explain or understand. Things he’d never had time to even try to examine, too busy with the apocalypse and Sam and running from a predetermined fate. But ever since that day Dean had called Cas for help, they had been around each other almost constantly. Things, while hectic, had slowed down. He and the angel had been shoved even further into each others orbit, the _something_ between them burning brighter than ever, undetermined, unnamed.

Sighing, Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shaking himself and forcing his brain to focus on more important things, like the case and all the things they would need before coming back under the cover of dark, and not on the man at his side or what his place in Dean’s life meant.

 

 

It was nearly midnight when they snuck back to 432 Abercorn, each carrying a duffel of supplies. The gate into the backyard wasn’t even locked, allowing them to easily slip in, the overgrowth and darkness shielding them.

“Let’s bless the ground first,” Sam suggested, dropping his bag and kneeling to pull out the iron chain he’d been carrying.

Nodding, Dean pulled out containers of salt and holy water, handing the water off to Cas as he began to pour a large circle of salt around the iron ring Sam had made with the chain.  “Cas, you bless the ground and house. It’ll be more effective coming from you.”

Looking down at the water in his hands, a somber expression crossed his face. “I’m no longer an angel, though.”

Straightening, Dean carefully watched Charlie as she circled the small yard, juggling both an erratic EMF reader and camera set to night vision. “Yeah, well, prayer’s about faith, and _we_ , all have faith your prayers are still far more effective than ours.” He looked at the other man, tapping an iron poker against his leg. “We’ll watch your back for you.”

Cas glanced at Sam who gave a single nod of affirmation. Nodding in return, Cas stepped into the ring of salt and iron and knelt, deft fingers unscrewing the bottle of water while the other three moved into a protective formation around the yard, Dean standing only a few feet away. Cas placed one hand against the ground, slowly pouring a thin trail of water from the bottle as his lips moved almost silently.

Sam had rosary beads clenched in one hand, thumb rubbing over them absently in silent prayer, while Dean let his eyes play over the windows of the house, searching for faces staring back at him.

A whimper from Charlie caught both of their attention, gazes snapping to her. Her gaze was glued on a small girl, gray as an old photograph and standing just outside Cas’ protective ring directly behind him. Dean’s heart began beating hard against his ribcage, fear for the angel mere feet from the ghost clenching his chest tightly as he readjusted his grip on his weapon and held his breath.

She moved and Dean tensed even further, watching as she circled silently around to stand in front of Castiel, and then squatted, her arms folded over her knees and the folds of her skirt crumpling on the ground.

 _Cas_ , Dean thought, willing the angel to look up, but not wanting to do anything to startle the girl.

The man must have sensed her then, because he visibly stiffened, words faltering a moment before continuing in the same steady murmur even as he slowly lifted his head to regard the apparition observing him with a curious cant to her head. When he met her gaze, she smiled. Not a malicious smile, but the shy smile of a curious child.

The words continued to pass Cas’ lips for another few moments, before Dean clearly heard ‘Amen’ and Castiel stopped pouring holy water, his gaze centered on the little girl crouched watching him and waiting patiently.

“…Hello,” he said.

She had dimples when she smiled fully, angling her head to look at the ground beneath him. “May I ask what you are doing?” she wondered before raising her gaze to his again. “Have you planted something?”

“I was saying a prayer.”

She nodded as if that were a perfectly logical thing to be doing, then, “Would you like to play with me?”

Castiel blinked, looking flummoxed. “I…” He glanced worriedly at Dean.

The girl’s head snapped toward the house, eyes wide in panic as she shot to her feet. “I should be inside.” She dashed off, vanishing as she reached the front steps.

All four hunters moved to stand in the protective circle, back-to-back with weapons ready, eyes searching for the slightest movement.

“So I take it the blessing of the grounds was a bust,” Charlie said, forcing a nervous laugh. “Plan B?”

“The cursed ground was just part of the problem.”

“Sam, if every person who’s died or vanished here haunts the place now, how many ghosts are we looking at exactly?” demanded Dean.

His brother shifted, long fingers flexing and gripping the iron rod he held ready. “At least a dozen.”

A snort escaped the shorter of the two. “Yeah, because our lives wouldn’t be any fun if things were easy.”

“At least we know not all of them are malicious,” Cas offered dryly with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Since nothing has materialized outside of the house, I’m assuming the evil of their spirits will not let them set foot on blessed ground.”

“So we have to go in after them?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Yes.”

Dean looked at him over his shoulder, putting as much incredulity into his words as possible. “The four of us in close quarters against at least a dozen ghosts?”

“That’s _if_ there are ghosts for every person that met their fate here,” interjected Sam, reasonable as ever as he stepped cautiously out of the protective circle.

Nothing moved. They all released a collective breath, before gathering up their bags and the iron chain. Charlie pulled two Super Soakers filled with holy water from her bag, handing one to Dean, who passed off his poker to Castiel. Sam stood by the unlocked basement door waiting for them.

“Y’know, I kinda feel like Buffy and the Scoobies here,” whispered Charlie, following Dean into the basement illuminated by an LED lantern Sam held aloft. “I’m obviously Willow. Dean, you’re Buffy.” The blond snorted.

Sam grinned. “Cas is totally Angel.”

Charlie laughed. “On so many levels.”

The man in question shook his head. “I don’t understand the humor,” he admitted, sounding resigned as he sprinkled holy water on the ground, the four of them spreading out in the basement, inscribing discreet wards and sigils throughout.

“Angel is a vampire with a soul,” Charlie informed him. “He and Buffy are each other’s one true love-“

“Hey, I am suddenly no longer appreciating this analogy!” snapped Dean, glaring over his shoulder as he wrote a small protective sigil onto each support pillar.

“They _complete_ each other,” continued Sam melodramatically, while Cas looked at him like he’d sprouted antlers, “But they can never, ever be together, even while constantly joining forces and saving the world every other week.”

“And this character reminds you of me?”

Dean is pretty sure Cas is insulted. Rightfully so, but it is kinda funny.

“Well, there is the name.”

“And the fact that he lives forever to destroy the wicked and protect humanity.”

 “Let’s not forget his affection for a certain blond human a disturbing age gap younger than him.”

“Who is a kick ass warrior against all things evil.”

“Don’t forget the broody behavior and eternal sex hair.”

Sam opened his mouth to add on to that, despite the fact Castiel was glowering dangerously, and Dean thought it was perhaps a good thing Cas couldn’t turn Sam into a smear on the wall with a thought, but then his younger brother faltered, looking puzzled.

“Wait. If you guys are Buffy, Willow, and Angel… does that make me Xander?” He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Charlie and Dean glanced at each other, then back at Sam to say in unison, “You’re totally Giles.”

Which earned them a poignant bitchface followed by an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know why I put up with you people.”

Ah, Sam. Forever wronged by the universe by being saddle with such clearly awesome friends and family. His burdens: so many, so great. Dean chuckled.

A loud crash overhead drew all their attention. On the main floor, doors slammed, followed by the sound of a child crying. Meeting each other’s gazes, they gave a nod, before the four of them slowly ascended the stairs to the first floor of the house.           

“We don’t need the lantern,” offered Charlie softly, shakily. “The house has electricity in all rooms, save the front one.”

“Why not the front one?”

Dean got the sense that while fighting zombies was a cakewalk for the redhead, ghosts were something she was far less experienced fighting.

“It’s where the unsolved triple murder of those girls took place,” was all the explanation she gave before Sam put out the light, having reached the door, and she whimpered again.

Dean wanted to shield her, every protective instinct in him bristling at the fact that he’d allowed her to come with them.

“Pretend it’s a game,” he whispered, “but with ghosts instead of zombies. The point is to keep them from getting close to the other members of your team. Stay inside barriers we put down.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cas. “Don’t let them separate you from me.”

Dean met his brother’s gaze and they nodded to each other, Sam carefully opening the door with weapon at the ready. The blond hunter was suddenly far less okay with this plan than he had been. Saving lives was one thing, but they were putting themselves at a ridiculous risk coming in the house with two unseasoned fighters against a threat of unconfirmed number.

He got the feeling Cas would be furious at being called ‘unseasoned’, but fighting for millennia as a nearly unstoppable force with holy powers, and then to suddenly be in a vulnerable body using weapons he was not accustomed to fighting with?

“God, this was such a bad idea,” he muttered as they crept out of the basement, fear and adrenaline making his heart hammer against his sternum. He had not tied his soul to Cas’ and kept him alive just to risk losing the angel now.

The man in question let his fingers briefly touch Dean’s left shoulder, the contact inexplicably soothing. “I’ll be fine,” his friend assured him, ignoring the scowl on Dean’s face. He inclined his head toward Charlie. “Worry more about her.”

Dean didn’t get time to worry because then Sam was shouting a warning as a female flickered into appearance with a dark expression and bloody clothes. She was older than the child from outside, with clothes closer to their time period. Charlie shot her in the face with a stream of holy water, making the girl hiss and vanish, face contorting into something far less human and her fingers extended like claws. Super Soaker in one hand, Dean had a container of salt in the other, laying down a line at entrances into the room, while Sam put down lines at the windows.

Charlie scrambled through her bag for one of the tiny bundles to stuff beneath the floorboards in every room. They didn’t have bodies to burn, or bodies they would have access to for burning, so they were only left with the options to A) burn the house down, which Sam forbade, and given the closeness of the other buildings, Dean got, or B) exorcise and bless every square foot of the entire property and _force_ the spirits into non-existence.

They were going with the much more dangerous Plan B.

“Done!” the red head exclaimed, slotting the loose floorboard back into place.

Nodding, Sam and Dean crossed over the salt line into another room, weapons raised and at the ready, lashing out as more than one young girl appeared this time. If he had to guess, Dean’d say it was the three girls from the unsolved triple murder.

One of the girls sprung into the air, launching herself at Sam and vanished midair, Dean’s shot of holy water was useless and unimpressive, too little, too late as some force slammed into his brother’s chest, flinging him backward where he landed hard, sprawled on the ground, choking and gasping.

“Sam!”

His brother waved his free hand, pointing behind Dean, as his other clutched at his chest. The blond spun, already pulling the trigger before he found himself almost nose to nose with black eyes and an ashen pallor. With a yelled warning, Charlie was shooting her own weapon, catching Dean in the chest and sending the spirit fleeing to a corner of the room with the other two.

Having already laid the iron chain in a circle, Cas was prying up one of the boards and stuffing a satchel in the small space, lips moving almost infinitesimally as Sam and Dean kept the three girls cornered and Charlie laid another line of salt, effectively trapping the ghosts in the one room.

The ghosts shrieked and screamed, morphing their faces and bodies into hideous visages Dean remembered from Hell. It made a lump form in his throat; he fought to force it down in order to breath. In a final act of defiance, the three girls all launched themselves at Dean, eyes sunken into gruesome faces, claws outstretched as horrific, ungodly screams were ripped from their throats. Suddenly, Dean was no longer in the house, but back on the rack, surrounded by the undying and the tormented, by things that would rend him limb from limb and suck the marrow from his bones while he screamed. He stood rooted, unable to breathe as the demonic faces loomed larger, reaching for him.

Then Sam was there, tackling Dean out of the way and covering him with his ginormous frame, face contorting in pain as fabric ripped, claws tearing into his shoulder before they were landing on the hardwood floor, one of Sam’s hands cradling the back of Dean’s head on impact.

There was a moment of silence, then everyone was moving and talking as one: Dean tried to gasp out Sam’s name as the panic attack took full hold, but his body was busy telling him he was unable to get air into his lungs. Sam assured Charlie that he was alright and demanded if Dean was okay. Cas was clearly startled at the sight of Dean blindly reaching out for his brother’s sleeve, slapping uncoordinatedly before grabbing a fistful of the material and clinging as he tried unsuccessfully to get his breathing under control, trying to mentally force his body to get itself under control.

Head spinning, Dean let Sam man-handle him to his knees. His brother pushed on his shoulder and half-curled Dean into a ball, one hand rubbed over the blond’s back, a babble of soothing words in a low tone being whispered in his ear. He knew without actually hearing them what Sam said, it was what Sam always said when he talked his brother through a panic attack. The familiarity of it was soothing, as were the hand on his back and the voice in his ear, even as Dean tried to apologize, tried to explain, angry at himself for _freezing_ on a case like an amateur. He just could get _air_.

Sam brushed his words aside carelessly. “Don’t worry about it, Dean, focus on breathing, c’mon. Slow in… slow out…”

Dean couldn’t focus on himself yet, not when they were still smack dab in the middle of a haunted house and Dean was cracking like an egg. “Charlie? Cas?”

“They’re fine, Dean,” Sam assured him, hand actually stroking over Dean’s hair, brushing it out of the way and over one of Dean’s shoulders. “They’re securing the rest of the ground floor.”

“But Cas-“ The thought of the angel so far away seized Dean with terror and panic again. Cas couldn’t be that far away for long. Even together, Charlie and Cas weren’t _safe_ -

“Dean, you _have_ to calm down,” insisted Sam.

Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why… it’s this… bad,” he gasped. Part of the panic felt… _more_ , somehow separate, yet as familiar as every panic attack he’d ever had.

Footsteps sounded on hardwood as Charlie and Cas rushed back into the secured area, and Dean felt a rush of relief at that, an impulsive, illogical part of him desperately wanted Castiel, the reach out and grab him like he’d done with Sam. He could feel the strain on the soul bond, like a rubber band wrapped tight around his heart, some instinctual part of him realizing _that_ was why he was struggling so hard with this panic attack. Cas was too far away.

“The rest of the first floor is secure,” Charlie said. “All rooms have a barrier, were blessed, and have the exorcism pouch thing.”

Dean lifted his head to look at Cas and Charlie, to confirm for himself that they were fine. Charlie seemed okay, aside from being torn between being worried for Dean or worried for Castiel, who looked ashen and as though he were about to hit the ground.

“Oh shit, Cas!” Dean managed, straightening slightly and reaching for the angel. The other man knelt in front of Dean as Sam pulled back and Dean threw his arms around his neck, hugging him, one hand in his hair. “You’re okay,” he assured, and barely stopped himself from pressing a kiss to the angel’s temple or mouth comfortingly. He squeezed him tighter instead. “We’re both okay. You shouldn’t have gone so far away, it could have waited.”

“We needed to secure the entire floor as soon as possible,” Cas argued into his hair, but without any heat.

Hiding a smile, Dean didn’t argue; his breathing slowly returning to normal as Cas’ frantic and irregular heartbeat did.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam apologized. “When they said they were securing- I didn’t even think about the soul-anchor thing and that you can’t be apart yet.”

That was when Dean looked at his brother, he and the angel separating after giving the other a perfunctory once-over to make sure they were both okay. Charlie winced as she inspected the bloody gashes in Sam’s shoulder.

Swearing, Dean shoved to his feet. “Shit, Sam, I’m sorry. That is completely my fault. I’ll take care of it for you. God, man, I’m sorry.”

Earnest eyes dipped to catch his gaze, making sure he had it before Sam spoke. “Dean, I’m fine. Scratches.”

“But I-“

Sam gave him a stern look. “Dean. PTSD from spending forty years in Hell is going to stay with you. Soldiers battle it after _one_ tour. They wouldn’t survive our lives and the things we’ve seen. Let it go, it’s not a big deal. You’ve endured the worst between us.”

Even as they began making their way to the second floor, Dean snorted. “Yeah, okay, Mr. I’ve-been-possessed-twice-once-by-the-Devil-himself.”

Snapping her head back to look at him, Charlie gave him a startled look. Sam forced a huff of laugh.

“Yeah, but Meg spared me remembering the majority of that week, and Lucifer only wore me a couple of hours to go face down Michael. Both times could have been much worse.”

They ran into the ghost of General Benjamin Wilson on the second floor, who yelled at them to leave his home and to stay away from his daughter, raging that he would not be told how to raise her.

There was, unfortunately, furniture on the second floor. It got tossed around a lot. Mostly at Sam and Cas as males. Dean and Charlie were left alone at first, in part, because the good general seemed to think they were trying to run and hide when in fact, Dean was shielding Charlie behind him while he tried to get a better grasp on the situation. Cas was pinned to the wall with a bureau, some supernatural force made it immovable. Sam had his hands full trying to keep the ghost from tying a jump rope around his throat.

Grabbing Cas’ dropped weapon, Dean swung at the apparition attempting to strangle his brother, the taller male deep red in the face already. Let drop, Sam fell to his hands and knees gasping and sucking in desperate air, while Charlie darted to his side, nimble fingers trying to remove the rope from around his neck.

Annoyed by his interference, Benjamin Wilson glared at Dean, appearing and disappearing quickly out of the way of Dean’s attacks.

“Do not interfere, girl, or I will show you no mercy,” he warned.

“I am _not_ a _girl_!” the blond raged, swinging out with his fist and iron-ringed fingers.

The lack of actual impact when his fist went straight through the general’s face was anti-climatic, but he took satisfaction in the look of surprise and the fact that had he been corporeal, he’d have been gushing blood everywhere.

Angry now, Benjamin Wilson’s ghost snarled, hands balled into fists that shook by his sides. He quickly crossed the distance between them, arm drawn up and swinging out to try and backhand Dean.

The movement faltered just before the hand would have made contact, his outstretched arm frozen mid-air as Dean smirked, not even having attempted to move out of the way or block the blow.

“What?” the General demanded in alarm.

Smirk stretching into a grin, Dean told him, “I’m _the_ _distraction_ , you ass.”

From their spot huddled together, Sam and Charlie finished the blessing of the building, fitting the floorboards back into place with a satisfied “Amen”. The general’s ghost wasn’t able to launch himself at them fast enough and disappeared mid-lunge, Sam having wrapped his arms around Charlie and shielded her with his large form.

Ghost gone, Cas shoved the bureau away with an angry scrapping sound. They all checked each other over for injuries, Sam rubbing gingerly at his already bruising neck while Dean searched the ceiling.

“Okay. What now?” he asked. “This place got an attic?”

Charlie shook her head. “No, it has a basement. We should be good. The whole place has been blessed top to bottom.”

Clapping a hand on his brother’s uninjured shoulder, Dean grinned and said, “Only had to fight four ghosts! This turned out better than expected.” His wide smile shifted to Cas. “How was your first ghost hunt as a human?”

Angling his head, Cas seemed to consider it a moment, before answering, “Tiring. I would like sleep before we make the long trip back to Bobby’s.”

“Uh, guys,” interjected Charlie, making all of them turn. She stood by a window looking out into the yard. “We still have one more ghost.” They all crowded around her, and the irony of it was not lost on Dean as they all peered out at the ghost child skipping rope by herself in the yard. “What do we do?”

Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, Dean turned to make his way from the room. “We give her what she wants and let her go on.”

“How are we suppose to do that?” she demanded, incredulous sounding.

He grinned at her over his shoulder. “We go play with her.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Yes, Castiel has met The Ghostfacers. It was epic. So,so epic.
> 
> Also, feedback and comments welcome, even more so if you've read "The Path We Choose".
> 
> And as ever, huge, massive, uber thanks and hugs to my beta Oppisum. IDEK what I'd do without you.
> 
> EDITED 3/18/14


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

 

After a two day car trip to get Georgia, and then an entire day working on the hunt, the four of them slept in the next morning, exhausted. The remainder of the day was to be spent watching movies and eating Chinese take-out, recouping from the hunt in preparation for yet another two day drive back to Bobby’s.

Emerging from the bathroom together, and earning a curiously arched brow from

Charlie for it, Dean waved his phone at Cas. “You mind if I make a phone call?” he asked pointing to the door.

“Would you like privacy?” the other man questioned.

A shrug. “No, I just… if you sit at the table, it should let me be just right on the other side

of the door, so you three can still talk or watch tv.”

Cas nodded and Dean ducked out the door.

Charlie looked at Sam and then to Cas, pointing toward the bathroom. “So are you two, like, actually together now and I missed it? Or-?”

Sam snorted, muttering, “They might as well be” under his breath.

Cas shook his head, looking fond and sad in one. “No. That’s- it’s part of what Dean did to save me when my siblings tore out my grace. His soul is my anchor until mine stabilizes. The first few days we actually had to be in almost constant physical contact, now we have to stay within a few feet of each other until it finishes. We’ve worked out a system.”

“So the bed sharing and the book you were both reading?” He inclined his head and she nodded. “You actually _can’t_ be that far away from each other for that long.” He shook his head and she whistled. “I thought… I dunno, he was being overprotective or something yesterday, but he was being literal.”

Cas shrugged. “It is a temporary inconvenience to keep me alive and on earth.”

She looked toward the door. “So I guess he’s checking in with Bobby?”

“Probably Lisa,” Sam said, hazel eyes focused on the door like he were trying to see or hear beyond it. “At least this time he’s not dropping a bombshell.”

The red head’s expression lit up in recognition. “Oh! Oh! I know that name!” She snapped her fingers repeatedly, eyes flitting back and forth as she searched her memory. She pointed triumphantly at Sam. “Lisa! Yoga instructor Dean had a weekend fling with years ago, then later on went to hook up with after he sold his soul, except she was more settled down a bit, being a single mother and all, and they parted amicably. You ended up saving her and her son from mouth-babies.”

The hunter arched a brow. “I see you’ve found the books Chuck wrote.”

She shrugged. “There was a display.” She pivoted to regard Cas better, head tilted to the side. “So, he’s just, what? Chatting with his ex-booty call from forever ago while basically being married to you?”

Castiel blinked with a start, his face becoming instantly closed off as he glanced out the window, to the form pacing and gesturing on the other side of the thin curtains. The former angel heard him laughing and it caused a pang of something bittersweet in his chest.

“Dean and I are strictly friends,” he told Charlie, looking back at her. “Despite the circumstances you have currently found us in, our relationship is entirely platonic friendship. Dean saved my soul, just as I saved his from Hell. He did so by tying his soul to mine, just as I used my grace to repair his once.”

Sam sighed and rubbed at his forehead, sounding exhausted when he spoke. “Also, Lisa is not a bootycall-“ Charlie arched a disbelieving brow, and Sam nodded, “Okay, maybe originally, but Dean ended up dating her after I died and we stopped the Apocalypse, and they keep in touch now.”

            “You _died_?” she said, throwing her hands up and waving them frantically to stop him. “Whoa, back up. I am not that far in the books. You died stopping the Apocalypse? And what was Dean talking about you being possessed by Satan yesterday?”

            Sucking in a breath, Sam rubbed a hand over his face and then through his hair. “I… it was part of the plan to stop Lucifer. I had to say ‘yes’ to being his vessel, then took back control of my body and jumped in the portal Dean opened. I ‘died’ in the sense that I _should_ have died, or was expected to, to be trapped in the Cage along with Michael and Lucifer. Afterward, Dean went and found Lisa to start a new life.”

            The girl on the other bed angled her head. “So what happened?” She wiggled her fingers in his direction. “You are clearly not so much with the dead at the moment.”

            He shook his head. “We’re not entirely sure. Dean saw me jump in the Cage. A week later I was dumped comatose on the floor of Bobby’s library. God’s the only one that could swing something like that. He’s intervened before, but we never get the opportunity to question him about it.”

            “So _God_ brought you back?” she asked, her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline.

            Cas shook his head. “There is no other conceivable alternative to consider.”

            “Then what about Dean and Lisa?” she questioned, hooking her thumb over her shoulder at the man outside.

            “Dean was not made aware of Sam’s survival until several months later, after he found books published under Chuck’s name and called me in order to try and keep what he thought was a prophecy of the future from coming to play,” Cas explained.

            She looked aghast. “Dudes, why the hell not? He must have been losing his mind.” They both dropped their gazes guiltily and Charlie shook her head again, looking even more confused. “And I am still not understanding the whole Dean going find Lisa and them dating. Where’s the logic?”

“I begged him to,” Sam admitted, “thinking if left on his own he’d get himself killed.” His eyes flicked to Cas and then back to Charlie and he waved dismissively. “I sent him to someone that I knew would get him out of the life and would keep him alive.”

He didn’t say anything about how they’d both been so desperate and scared at the time, so weighed down and tired, that trying to live the apple pie life had been an easy escape from everything trying to pull them into play, from Heaven and Hell’s _decades_ of manipulation and scheming. The idea of apple pie suburbia had appealed so much to both of them back then because what other life could be further removed from their own, could possibly be safer? Sam had told Dean to run, to run far and fast, and to not look back.

And Dean had done it, even when they both knew that life wasn’t Dean. Hell, it wasn’t even Sam, but it was the _idea_ of freedom that made them want it so badly.

Still, clearly confused, Charlie opened her mouth, but was cut off as Dean came back in the room, talking on the phone and snapping his fingers for their attention. Cas straightened in his seat, while Charlie and Sam both immediately changed their expressions so as to not give anything away.

“O-okay, hold on, Becky, let me put you on speaker phone,” Dean said as he fiddled with the device and moved to take a seat at the table with Cas. They all eyed the phone curiously. “Go ahead, Becky.”

The girl on the other end of the phone sucked in a deep breath. “They need context. Lisa asked you how much longer you’d be a girl, you called me to see if I found anything about Chuck, I said ‘no’. You asked if there was any chance that Gabbie was actually Gabriel in disguise-“

“And you said…” Dean prompted, meeting his brother’s gaze and pointed significantly to the phone. A smirk curled the corner of Sam’s mouth.

“And I said ‘no’, that she is not, but that Gabriel isn’t actually dead, he’s MIA per God’s instructions. The notes don’t say where he is, but that Gabriel knew it would only be a matter of time before he got pulled into the fight with his family and there was a good chance he would end up dead, therefore he went into the past to have a chat with himself in order to have a protégée take over as the new Trickster upon his demise.”

“Except…”

“Except,” she allowed, “that she isn’t just his protégée, she’s his daughter. Half archangel, half pagan god, new Trickster, since the role is handed down. No word of who the mother is.”

“Which means…”

Sam was sure she rolled her eyes in exasperation then. “Which means you can use a summoning ritual for the Trickster and bring her to you for an update and ask her how much longer you’re stuck in that body.”

Dean whooped and punched air in triumph, making Sam duck his head in a laugh.

On her end of the phone, Becky rolled her eyes again. “Which you might not want to do, I would point out. She is searching for Chuck, so if she’s close to closing in on him and you summon her to your location, she may lose the trail and that’s that much longer you are stuck as a woman, and possibly Sam ends up as a girl or something, for having inconvenienced her a second time by yanking her away from her hunt.”

“Why didn’t you say that a minute ago?” demanded Dean angrily.

“You didn’t give me a chance,” she snapped back at him.

On the nightstand, Sam’s phone beeped and he picked it up, thumbing open the text message and reading it.

“So basically I am no closer to being a guy again than I was before I called.”

“Them’s the breaks,” she said cheerfully, causing him to scowl. “Which, you know, might be for the best while you are still acting to stabilize Castiel’s soul. The magic might make it… wonky, and endanger Cas.”

His scowl morphed into something far more dangerous. “You _knew_ they were gonna rip out his grace and you didn’t-“

“I already told you, Dean,” she interjected impatiently. “I _cannot_ tell you the future without risking changing the outcome and putting you in even greater danger. From my end, it was cut and dry: potential bad that turns out okay. Cas wasn’t taken away from you and he survived. I wasn’t risking that by calling to give you a heads up on the H.B.I.C from upstairs!”

Glaring furiously, Dean snatched up the phone and switched it off speaker, shoving to his feet and slamming the door behind him as he went outside, jabbing his finger angrily at the air as

he snarled into the phone.

All eyes shifted to Cas, who gave them an apologetic smile, rose, and went outside after him. Sam and Charlie watched their obscured forms through the curtains, Dean clearly audible as he told Becky everything her lack of warning had cost the angel, what being human was subjecting him to, making him vulnerable to. His words were abruptly cut off when Cas came up behind him and plucked the phone away, speaking quietly into it a moment before pocketing it and regarding the blond before him.

Dean had his head turned away and wasn’t looking at him, arms folded protectively, and shoulders hunched forward. Charlie could hear the low murmur of Castiel’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Still, it was obvious what the conversation was about.

Lips twisted, Charlie turned her head to regard Sam. “I realize they haven’t gotten the memo, or are in denial or something, but _you_ realize they’re in love with each other right? Not that whole ‘we only have platonic friendship’ thing?” He looked up from his phone, expression falling as he bit his bottom lip. Charlie blinked. “Right?”

The brunette let his tongue sweep over his lips, gaze flicking to the two people talking outside the room. “I… thought?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Charlie, you have to understand: they have been friends for more than two years now, at one point I was certain Dean cared about Cas beyond friendship, that it was mutual. I mean, you haven’t even seen the intense staring thing they do, but then…” He gestured vaguely, sighing in frustration.

She shook her head. “Then what? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Sam insisted. “That’s just it. Nothing happened, neither one of them acted on it. I don’t know if it was because Cas was the first guy Dean felt that way about, or Cas as an angel had never been in love either and didn’t recognize it to act on it, but I second-guessed myself. I mean, maybe that’s normal given their relationship, Cas saving Dean from Hell and putting him back together, Dean teaching Cas how to think for himself and exercise free will, maybe that’s just them, I thought. A friendship unlike any other on earth, born from circumstances unlike any other on earth. It’s why I sent him to Lisa, he could have a normal life with her, a safe life.”

She frowned, considering this. “But, and no offense, Sam, had you not pushed him on Lisa, he and Cas might would have already figured things out between them and he still would have been okay after losing you. I mean, I get what you were trying to do, I guess, but from what I’ve read in the books throwing him at Lisa made no sense.”

“I wanted him out of this life. I wanted him to have something normal and safe. We both wanted it, and he could have had it. We were running scared at the time, Charlie.” He waved a hand. “He and I already had a blow up about it. I was wrong, but I was also desperate, terrified that after I was gone what that would do to Dean. Not to just lose his brother, but under those circumstances.” He sighed and looked at the people on the other side of the glass. “Maybe this is their second chance. Maybe everything that’s happened and is still happening is what it’ll take for them to realize what they feel. To properly name it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “When I died, it nearly destroyed Dean, but he made it through, held himself together and changed his life choices for the sake of those who were then dependent on him. He survived, and I don’t know if it’s in part because of the way we were raised, always knowing that we could lose the other, because of how many times we _had_ lost the other or what, but…” he trailed off, gaze distant. “I don’t think he could survive losing Cas, and I think… I think maybe Dean knows it, too, even if he doesn’t exactly know why.”

His phone beeped in his hand some more, and he opened the first message just as Dean and Cas reentered the room.

Eyes tracking them worriedly as Dean came in and flopped down on the bed, Charlie hedged, “Everything okay?”

“Great,” answered Dean, turning on the TV. “Cas is gonna take us all to Disney World where we’ll dress up as our favorite characters and go live in Cinderella’s castle.”

“I said no such thing,” stated Cas, brow raised.

Charlie thrust a hand into the air. “I call dibs on Han Solo!”

Dean lifted his head to look at her. “You can’t call dibs on Han. One, Disney doesn’t own

Star Wars-“

“Yet, but they will. I have people. They tell me things,” she said conspiratorially.

Dean rolled his eyes and continued. “Two, if anyone is going as Han Solo, it’s me.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Dean. Called dibs. Pick someone else.”

“Fine, then I get to be Obi Wan. Our lives could use Jedi mind powers.”

“If you’re still a girl when we go, we could dress you like Rapunzel and you can chase people around with an iron skillet,” she told him. “Very effective against ghosts and people alike.”

Dean laughed.

“Uh, hey, not to interrupt this profound, life-altering conversation,” interjected Sam, waving a hand as he continued to read through the messages on his phone. He ignored the way Charlie and Dean simultaneously declared him Luke Skywalker. “Sarah just emailed me, and we have a case waiting for us in Indiana. An estate sale with some potentially cursed objects that don’t need to fall into civilian hands.”

Growling in frustration, Dean shot his brother a look. “Dude! Going to ground. Medical

Leave. Is any of this ringing a bell for you? We are _not_ on active duty right now!”

Nodding, Sam read over the email again. “Which the bad things heard about and are obviously going on vacation because of. Sarah says she’ll meet us in Indiana.” He thumbed open another message. “Also, Bobby said a couple of hunters came by the house looking for us.”

His brother frowned. “…I take it they _weren’t_ Team Winchester?”

Sam shook his head, meeting his brother’s gaze. “Not even a little. Sheriff had to be called. Apparently they had a pow-wow once Jody got there, though. They still had to call both Sarah and Garth as character witnesses before the hunters believed him.”

Groaning, Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. Nodding his agreement, Sam continued, “But get this… we at least know for certain where the rumors are coming from now.” His brother straightened with interest. “Meg found out that infected demons started the rumor, and that other demons spread it trying to get us killed.”

“Tch. Figures. _Demons_ , _man_. Forever messing up our lives.” He scratched the back of his scalp in irritation, before demanding, “What about Crowley having put us on the ‘Do Not Call’ list?”

Shrugging, Sam set his phone aside again. “They’re on their own, I think. And considering Meg found any of this out makes me think she found the parties responsible or is on their trail. This is at least one less thing we’ll have to worry about soon, anyway, what with the mass genocide she and Crowley are committing to get ahead of the spread of the disease.”

Snorting, Dean shook his head. “Well, it’s about time our luck changed. Why can’t we ever have good things happen to us? We don’t ever get nice things.”

Snapping her fingers, Charlie let out a loud ‘oh!’ and dug out her phone, playing with it a minute before her gaze fell to Dean. His phone buzzed in Cas’ pocket. The angel dug it out and handed it to Dean, who accepted it glancing questioningly at Charlie. She wiggled her eyes brows in response, grinning. He looked at the screen, blinked and chuckled, thumb hitting a few buttons before sliding his phone into his pocket and grinning at her.

“You cannot be trusted to be left unsupervised.”

“You three were right there. And you _just_ said you wanted nice things done for you. Voilà.”

His eyes sparkled at the joke only they got, of the photo of Cas now saved to his phone. “You are very sneaky. I ought to stick you on a bus back to Bobby’s.”

She turned up her nose. “See if I do you anymore favors. I’ll put myself on a bus once we get to Indiana.”

“Do I want to know what you two are up to?” questioned Cas.

Dean grinned at him. “Probably for the best you don’t know,” he admitted.

Sam gave Charlie a questioning look, brows drawn and head tilted. She winked in response and nudged Dean with a socked foot, gaining his attention.

“So who would Cas dress up as at Disney World?”

 

 

 

The trip to Indiana was much like the one to Georgia in that despite the long car ride, they went to work almost as soon as they got there. Sam and Sarah had already gotten ready for their part of the case and left for the evening, while Dean and Cas were forced to wait for dark to fall to take on their end.

“I’ll be really glad to finally have my guy body back,” sighed Dean, running a brush through his now dry hair and regarding his reflection in the motel’s bathroom mirror contemplatively. “Getting ready will be faster, for one.”

Finishing buttoning his navy blue shirt, Cas glanced at him from his position leaning against the door frame, eyes raking over the hunter’s form and then to where Dean continued brushing his hair. Dean caught the expression that flitted over the former angel’s face before he’d looked away.

“What?” questioned the blond, setting the hairbrush aside and leaning with his hip against the counter. The angel gave a slight shake of his head; Dean arched a brow. “Do you agree with Meg or something? Think this form suits me? Am I the only person who likes me as a guy?”

The other man glared at him. “I said no such thing. Your form doesn’t matter, Dean. You’re still you, I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful a moment, then his gaze shifted to Dean. “I’m not sure you would appreciate my saying it.” The blond crossed his arms and fixed his friend with a pointed stare, waiting. Rolling his eyes, Cas sighed. “While I will be glad when you are able to get back to the form you prefer, I think I will also miss this form as well.” He turned, head angled as he fully regarded Dean. “It is still apart of you, still you, though different. I do agree with Meg that you are lovely in this form.” His eyes played over the hunter’s face and long hair falling around his shoulders. “What form you take doesn’t matter to me, but there are little things about this one I will miss, is all.”

Resisting the urge to flush with embarrassment, Dean tried to reverse his thinking, to see things from Cas’ perspective, how he would feel were Cas suddenly in a new vessel. He would still be Cas while looking different, but yeah… Dean would miss his current form as well.

Corner of his mouth curling in a smile, the hunter clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder as he stepped past him and into the motel room. “I’d miss you, too, if you suddenly changed faces. I’m kinda use to this one.”

He glanced at the clock by the bed. The sun had set a little while ago and Charlie already called to let them know she had made it to Bobby’s. Sam and Sarah were probably just getting to the Margaret

Stark gallery for the auction- and to cause one of the pieces to mysteriously disappear before it went up for bid. Sucking in a deep breath, Dean glanced at Cas.

“Well. You ready for our part in the heist?”

The angel inclined his head. “It sounds like we have the easy part.”

“We do,” agreed Dean, shrugging into his jacket. “They have to dress up and do all the schmoozing and socializing. You and I just have to break into an antique shop and steal a music box.” He opened the door, frowning out into the light rain. “Grab that pocket umbrella Sarah forgot. I’m not letting you catch a cold your first couple of weeks as a human. You’ll probably think you’re dying.”

Snorting, Cas rolled his eyes, but did as told, even while arguing, “Dean, I hardly think a common human ailment could possibly make me think I’m dying.”

Dean gave him a look over the roof of the car. “Says the man who’s never been sick. Oh God, are you even up to date on all your shots and vaccinations?” The angel shook his head and shrugged, making Dean sigh as they got in the car. “I guess that’s what we do once we get back to Bobby’s. And get you inked. _As soon_ as we get back to Bobby’s,” he insisted, pointing to the angel and pulling out of the motel parking lot.

As they drove toward the small downtown area, Dean continued to speak, “We’ll teach you how to B and E later, you can just be lookout tonight because the store is right there at a corner.”

“It’s unfortunate we’re unable to break in through a back entrance.”

“Tell me about it. I just want to finish and then head back home in the morning. Once we do, we are going to ground if I have to lock us all in the panic room.”

The man in the passenger seat glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

He spared him a flat look. “Cas. We decided to go to ground, what? A week ago? Two? And what happened?” He began counting off on his fingers. “You’re siblings showed up and ripped out your grace, then Charlie came to us with a case- even though you and I are on dire medical leave, and now Sarah has called us and needs our help rounding up cursed objects that went into an estate sale and auction.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curled into a smile as he inclined his head. “You’d be very bored by now had you been allowed to go to ground like you wanted.”

Dean snorted. “Whatever. Bobby would have us working on his neglected To-Do list that’s probably five miles long by now.” He snorted again, shaking his head in disbelief. “And even with all the research we are doing, and the calls coming in, we still have absolutely nothing to explain why monsters are acting out, the cause of the demon disease, or where the hell the prophets have disappeared to and why.”

“I fear we will not like the answer even when we finally have it.”

“When do we ever? But at least then we would have something to work toward. All we have now is a map filled with colored pins and notebooks filled with details about each of them.”

They parked a couple of blocks away from the antique store at a coffee shop. On the mostly empty streets where all the shops were already closed down, a random parked car would probably draw undue attention.

The off-and-on drizzle of the evening had temporarily stopped again, Cas reluctantly carrying the collapsed umbrella in one hand as they made their way down the damp sidewalks. As they reached the corner store, Dean pointed Cas to a spot to stand, with instructions to lean back against the building and look like he were waiting for someone rather than acting as lookout.

Dean rounded the corner to the front of the store, regarding it a moment. They’d only had time to come by earlier to see where it was, too busy with other things that had to be done first, before they could come back when it was dark and the streets mostly clear.

He let his gaze travel over the place, the collection of pieces and memories that probably all once held meaning and sentimental value to someone, and now were only worth an overpriced sticker based on when they were made and how well they’d been taken care of. The only thing Dean held of any value in the store cluttered with antiques was the deadly piece of inventory that was innocently disguised as small music box.

There would be no getting it tonight, he could tell at first glance. The store front was completely glass, and with so much stuff, they would have to search for it. It would be best to come back during store hours, pretending to be lawyers for the deceased’s estate, there to reclaim property that had not been within the seller’s rights to get rid of.

Dean let his gaze shift from looking through the glass to looking at it, just as the light drizzle from earlier began to fall again. His reflection stared back and he regarded her. The face staring back at him would be missed, though he’d never admit it. He could see his mother in his face, could see what his sister would have looked like if Mary had had a little girl to be looked after by her two older sons.

He’d never realized how much of his mother was in him until he’d gotten this body, and the reminder of it hurt. Not just the way he looked reminded him of his mother, but it made him realize that for as many years as Dean had tried to emulate his father, had tried to live up to and forever failed to meet his dad’s expectations of him, that it was probably because he had too much Mary in him. He was grateful for it in retrospect.

Movement in the reflection behind him caught his eye, the sight of a beat cop making him swear internally. Sighing, he let his folded arms fall to his sides, noting the way the cop’s gaze was fixed on him. Without revealing he’d seen the cop, Dean turned and made his way back to Cas, watching the cop move to follow. Well, fuck.

Waiting until he’d cleared the corner, Dean grabbed Cas by the hand and took off running.

“We’ve been made,” he hissed, the angel easily matching stride as they darted down the sidewalk, the cop much louder behind them as he hurried to try and catch up.

Dean darted down an alley, trying to lose the cop before he could actually see they were running from him. The guy was quick, but loud, as opposed to Dean and Cas who were both trained to move silently.

There was a ninja joke in there somewhere waiting to be made that Dean would have to think on later. He led Cas around another corner, their grips tight. They drew closer to the coffee shop as the light mist turned into a soft rain, and Dean’s panic started to kick into high gear.

They hadn’t actually been trying to break into the store yet, casing it sure, and the cop had only seen Dean, but if they got in the car and took off, that would make the situation worse. Currently, if the cop did catch up with them, they couldn’t really be charged with anything, though the cop was more than likely going to take them in and hold them overnight just to be an ass.

Were it just Dean, he wouldn’t care about spending the night in a holding cell, but he really didn’t want to get Cas arrested during his first weeks of being human either. Also? Fucking rain.

The umbrella.

Dean was struck with sudden inspiration, that on pain of death he would never tell Sam, a plan that would probably cause him to spend weeks unable to look Cas in the eye. Skidding to a halt at the corner of the coffee shop, Dean grabbed the umbrella from Cas’ hand, tossing it out to let it extend and blossom as he dragged Castiel back with him until Dean’s back was pressed against the bricks at the corner of the building, gaze casting toward the alley where any second the cop would appear. Cas was looking at him in confusion, a half-formed question on his lips, even as Dean reached up and around the back of the angel’s neck with his left hand, barely managing a fervent, “I’m really sorry about this, Cas,” before he pulled the other man in and kissed him, throwing the arm that held the umbrella around Cas’ shoulders so that the opened cover would shield them from sight, and that-hopefully- the cop would run right past them.

That had been the plan, had been what he expected. An awkward, impromptu kiss to keep them from getting arrested and spending a night in a holding cell at best, or having to call Bobby or Sam to bail them out at worst, followed by profuse apologies and possibly even food bribes for forgiveness, while he and Cas avoided eye contact and silently agreed never to speak of the incident again.

He did not expect the fire that ignited in his veins and under his skin that had him pushing up onto his toes, truly clutching at Castiel now, trying to get closer as he crushed their mouths together. Did not expect Cas to react just as strongly, groaning into the kiss, one arm snaking around Dean’s waist, holding their bodies flush against each other, his free hand burying itself in the blond’s hair

This was nothing like a first kiss, nothing like an impromptu kiss between friends who were only trying to go unnoticed by the cops. The kiss was desperate, like they’d both been starved for it and denied for too long. Dean was lost to anything outside of them, didn’t notice when the cop did, in fact, run right by them, or when the umbrella slipped from his grip so he could use both hands to hold onto Cas, oblivious to the light rain hitting them, one hand gripping the fabric at Cas’ shoulder, his other hand still in the short, dark hair and not letting go.

Then it came to a shattering end as someone loudly cleared their throat.

The police officer had circled back, and now stood impatiently with his arms folded, panting and wearing an expression that said exactly how much trouble they were in.

Their mouths tore apart and the two of them stared at each other in shock, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, still pressed hard against each other and breathing heavily, unable to compose a thought or try to understand what the hell had just happened.

 

 

They still ended up locked in adjacent holding cells. The silence hung heavy in the air between them as they sat on the metal benches, backs pressed against the cinderblock wall, and separated by a metal grate divider.

Dean sat with one leg folded and the other drawn up, arms looped around it. He had his head angled back against the cool wall, gaze focused on the stains on the ceiling, trying very hard to not allow his brain to think. Kiss aside, which they weren’t talking about ever if Dean got his way, his belief that he ruined everything he touched was forever gaining supporting evidence. Not only was it Dean’s fault that Cas was human, but now he’d been arrested within his first two weeks of his newly mortal status. Nothing says “Welcome to Humanity!” quite like spending the night in a holding cell.

They were just being held, rather than being charged; there was nothing they could be charged with other than loitering, and Dean had explained that they didn’t run _from_ the cop, hadn’t even realized the officer was giving chase, but that they were simply on a date, obviously, and could they please have their one phone call because Deanna’s brother and his girlfriend were expecting them, and would be really worried if they didn’t check in!

Sam and Sarah were currently at the antique store finishing the job with help from the married witches Sarah was friends with and worked for.

“I’ll miss looking in the mirror and seeing traces of my mother’s face,” Dean confessed impulsively. Cas turned his head to regard him. The blond gestured vaguely. “I never realized it before, I guess. I don’t look exactly like her, but I definitely look more like her than my dad, especially like this.” He frowned. “We only have a couple of pictures of her. Dad kept one in his wallet. I have one.” His throat constricted, and he had to swallow hard to speak. “Sometimes, I wonder if I would remember what she looked like without them.” He was quiet a long moment. “Then all this happened, and one day I saw her out of the corner of my eye. …I turned to look and saw my reflection in the glass of the window.”

The former angel regarded him for a long moment, the silence stretching out. Finally, he said, “I fear I would only miss inconsequential things.”

Finally, Dean did look at him. “Like what?”

“The smell of your shampoo.” The blond blinked with a start, making Cas smile and turn away, leaning his head back. “Like this, your hair is one of my favorite features… I can’t precisely say why. So many shades of gold and sunlight, then with the hair products Sam bought you that smell like honey and sunflowers… I’ll miss it.”

A blush creeping over his face, a snort of laughter escaped Dean as he returned to his previous posture. “The shampoo and conditioner Sam bought to tease me with is what you’ll miss?” he chuckled, casting a sideways glance over into the other cell, finding Cas doing the same. “You use the same stuff, Cas.”

The other man shrugged and returned his gaze to the ceiling. “It’s only something I associate fondly with you. Makes me think of our being stuck on Bobby’s sofa, and you showing me how an engine works. It reminds me of doing research and drinking coffee on the porch.” Whether he realized it or not, a fond smile crept over the angel’s lips as he spoke, recalling all the memories just the scent of Dean’s shampoo made him think of. It made Dean’s heart throb, and he began to wonder if there wasn’t a lot more to what he felt for Cas than just friendship and familial loyalty, or even attraction. It wasn’t nearly as scary a thing to be questioning as he’d have once thought it would be.

 “I’m sorry I got you arrested.”

He heard a huff of laughter and grinned when Cas said, “It’s just one more story to add to

the rest.”

Dean turned to look at him and they grinned at each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and comments always welcome.
> 
> Also, as always, thank you Oppisum for all your help with this chapter and the story.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

 

 

When they did finally make it back to Bobby’s, Dean and Cas made their way up to their shared room and went straight to bed. Having spent all night in a holding cell, and then driving back to South Dakota while Sam, the bitch, kept laughing at them for getting arrested to begin with… they were exhausted and increasingly ill-tempered until Sam finally left them alone.

Dean instantly woke when he felt the familiar displacement of air, of eyes watching him. He knew instinctively that their visitor had awoken Cas as well, the former angel’s back pressed to his.

In the instant he opened his eyes, Dean had pushed himself up on to one arm, pointing the gun he kept under his pillow at the blonde girl sitting cross-legged at the foot of their bed, while Castiel did the same, wielding his angel sword.

Gabbie smirked in amusement, eyes playing over the weapons pointed at her. Her gaze shifted to the hunter wearing a fierce expression that threatened to leave her nothing more than blood splatter on the opposite wall.

“Someone’s grumpy upon waking.” She grinned, eyebrow arching. “Y’know, most people keep lube and condoms by the bed. Not weapons.”

Dean didn’t bat an eye. “Everyone has their kinks.” His fingers flexed on the gun. “You better be here to turn me back into a guy.”

Gabriella bounced lightly, a cherry lollipop appearing in hand before she popped it in her mouth and grinned around the stick.

“Relax, Winchester. I’ll make you a real boy again, just like I promised. C’mon. Let’s go

downstairs. Grandaddy Bear and Baby Bear will probably wanna hear this too.”

She vanished in a flutter and Dean flopped back onto his pillow, rubbing his face into the soft material with a groan before shoving to a sitting position again. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair and kicked out from under the covers. “C’mon, Cas. Let’s get this over with.”

When they made it downstairs, Dean faltered at the sight of Becky sitting cross-legged on the couch in the library, laptop balanced on her legs.

“Dude,” he exclaimed, gesturing at her and looking demandingly at Sam who was in the kitchen shaking his head. His elder brother threw up his hands. “It’s like Invasion of the Blondes!”

The girl in question didn’t even spare him a look, fingers flying over the keys of her laptop. “Yeah, hi to you, too, Dean.” Her voice was flat and unenthusiastic.

Bobby was muttering under his breath as he crossed over to the desk and took out his flask.

With a sigh, Dean gave Becky a pointed look. “What are you doing here, Becks?”

She waved him off, tone clipped as she spoke, “I got here too early. Go find Gabriella and talk to her.”

He glanced at Sam again, who pointed toward the back door. He looked back at Bobby, who scoffed and motioned to the blonde sitting on his couch.

“You expect me to just leave her alone in my house?”

 _That_ finally made her look up, lips pursed and expression revealing cracking patience. She held up a finger, rolling her head around to look at each of them in turn.

“You know what? All of you are, for lack of better wording, _dicks_.” She glared. “All of you are ridiculously rude. You insult me left and right when all I have done is try to help you. Sam acts like I have the plague when I have done nothing but keep my distance and be on my best behavior! And you!” Her head snapped around to regard Bobby, brow arching as the older man visibly swallowed. “Afraid to leave me alone in your house? Really? Like I’m what? A thief? I am getting really sick and tired of being treated with less respect than you show demons!”

Dean held up his hands. “Woah, sorry, Becky. Bad day. I mean, you heard me with the nickname, right?”

Her voice and expression were frigid when she spoke, “Oh yeah, _very_ sweet after the complete and thorough way you ripped me a new one the other day on the phone-“

His expression turned stony and hard, bristling with anger at the reminder. “Cas could have _died_ -“

“But I knew he wouldn’t!” she yelled. “And that hurt, Dean! I quit my job in order to _help_ you guys! I am _here_ in order to help you! There is no one that is a bigger believer and cheerleader for any of you than me! I had faith in Sam when he was on demon blood and lying to you! I had faith in you when you were Alistair’s apprentice, and later that you would never say ‘yes’ to Michael! When _all_ of you have been at your lowest and darkest moment, I was the one who knew you’d pull through, who hurt when you hurt, was there every step of the way and knows you better than you fucking give me credit for! _And what do I get in return?_ ” She jabbed a finger in the air toward the kitchen, shoulders heaving as she practically growled, “Outside. I can’t talk to you right now.” Dean opened his mouth to argue, and she narrowed her gaze. “Out.”

And so they went, even Bobby, ordered out of the house and into the yard where Gabriella was waiting for them.

She grinned, nodding towards the house. “She’s a pistol.”

Dean gestured to the area with a twirl of his index finger. “I’m noticing a distinct lack of a prophet, Gabbie. We had a bargain.”

“Mm, yes, about that.” She clicked her teeth. “It’s not as simple as you’d like it to be.”

“So did you find Chuck or not?”

She gave a curt nod. “Found him. Our deal was not for me to bring him back, though, only to locate him.” She raised her hand, fingers poised. “Ready to be a real boy, Pinocchio?”

“Whoa!” exclaimed Sam, throwing himself in front of his brother with arms outstretched, like that would stop any mojo she decided to work. She arched a brow, while Dean waited, tense and bracing himself. Cas moved closer, as well. “We got no warning the first time you worked your magic, and we thought Dean was going to _die_ with how sick it made him! He was vomiting up blood! I-I have no idea how he didn’t _bleed to death_ , then he was delirious with fever and shakes when the vomiting subsided! Your magic interfered with Cas’ ability to heal him, and now Cas’ soul is now tied to Dean’s! If you go turning him back into a guy, if it somehow severs that connection, Cas’ heart stops and we lose him!”

She dropped her hand and Dean released the breath he’d been holding.

The younger Winchester lowered his arms, voice calmer now. “Can you turn him back without hurting Dean or breaking the connection to Cas? Or does Cas’ soul have to be stable before you can do it?”

Her gaze shifted to where Dean and Cas stood behind Sam’s much larger form, eyes tracing something they couldn’t see.

“So that’s what those lights mean,” she murmured, and her eyes flashed molten gold, illuminated from within. “Oh, I see now.”

She snapped her fingers sharply before any of them could stop her. Dean collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, spinning and dropping down.

Cas was already sliding a hand under the blond’s shoulders, lifting him up. Dean’s head lolled backward, hair spilling across the dirt and eyes closed. The former angel cupped the side of the hunter’s face in his hand.

“Dean?”

When they got no response, they both leveled glares at Gabriella. She stood smirking, with hands raised in surrender as Bobby leveled his gun on her.

Not hesitating, the older hunter shot her in the chest, sending her sprawling on the ground. She swore loudly, blood blossoming on her shirt, and the wound sparking. “Bullets made out of an angel sword?” she cried out indignantly, lifting her head to glare. “ _Really_?”

Closing the space between them, Bobby came to stand over her, ready to shoot her again.

“What did you do to Dean?”

As if on cue, Dean sucked in a loud breath, chest arching up as his eyes flew open wide. Sam and Cas returned their attention to him, faces colored with worry. Green eyes flicked to both their faces.

“What happened? Did it work? Why do I still sound like a girl?”

Sam looked him over. “I don’t know what she did. You’re still a girl. Do you feel okay?”

His brother sat up and regarded his own hands with a frown. “I feel fine.” He looked sharply at his angel. “Cas?”

The other man nodded. “I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean and Sam both glared at the new Trickster again. “Lucky for you,” they said in unison.

She sat in the dirt, thin fingers and nails tacky with blood as she dug the bullet out of her chest and flicked it to the side in disgust. Setting her jaw, she propped one forearm on her raised knee, arching a brow. “Can we not shoot me again, please?”

“What the hell was that?” demanded Bobby as the other three rose to their feet, distractedly knocking away dust, while keeping their eyes locked on the young woman who looked torn between chuckling and being angry.

“Relax,” she said, before pushing herself to her feet and began slapping at the dust on her own clothes, completely ignoring the threat the hunter still posed. “When Dean gets a shower he’ll turn back into his regular form, the magic washing down the drain as it were.” She glanced at him. “You’re center of balance may be a bit off, and you’re going to need to eat a ton of calories for a couple of days like you’re starving, but you’ll be fine. Lots of burgers and pizza. Keep hydrated with lots of water.” She glanced at the angel hovering protectively beside him. “You’ll be fine as well. Washing the magic away won’t affect the soul anchor bond since it’s a gentler transformation.”

Arms folded over his chest, Dean nodded. “Okay, fine. Great. Where’s Chuck and what the hell happened to him?”

She considered him for a moment, lips pursed, then said, “New York last I saw him, and the rest? That’s classified.”

He gave her a flat stare. “Oh you have got to be kidding.”

Shrugging, she hooked her thumbs into her pockets. “’Fraid not. He’s working on something. I can’t tell you what; he didn’t tell me. He’s protected, I will tell you that. I can also tell you that all the prophets went missing, not just the one.”

“We knew that.”

She nodded in an exaggerated motion. “Okay, well… did you know that the prophets going missing, the demons going rabid, and the monsters going berserk-“

“Are all connected?” Dean questioned, arching a brow. “Yeah, we figured that much out, too.”

“But you don’t know why or what it means,” she stated, pointing at him.

“And you do,” he challenged.

She shrugged. “Not exactly.”

“Which means you have brought us nothing, which means I was turned into a girl for nothing!”

She glared. “Our deal was for me to find your prophet, which I did. I also know he’s currently not wanting to be found because he’s on a mission. As in, _from God_ , being that he’s a prophet and all.”

Shaking his head, the younger Winchester frowned. “So you didn’t find anything useful while looking for Chuck?”

She gave him a pointed look, fingers poised to snap. “Wasn’t part of our deal. Want me to get on that next? Care to pay the price this time, Sam?”

“No!” both Winchesters exclaimed and she grinned.

She was so much like her father Dean wanted to punch her. Someone with that twisted a sense of humor should not have the supernatural powers to bend reality to their every whim.

“I might be able to give you some answers,” a cultured voice offered.

They all looked over to see Crowley leaning against the Impala, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit as he regarded them.

“Oh?” challenged Bobby gruffly as the demon sauntered closer.

Sly smirk curling his mouth, Crowley winked at the hunter. “Don’t get cross with me, precious, just because work has kept me away. I missed you, too.” He kissed the air at the other man.

Tuning out the colorful, muttered cursing, Dean eyed Crowley suspiciously. “You and Meg finally find something?”

The King of Hell shrugged. “Torture enough people and you’re bound to learn plenty, wouldn’t you agree?”

When the other man didn’t elaborate, Dean spread his hands. “Care to share with the class then? Guessing you need our help with it if you’re here, which means it’s _really_ bad, so spit it out.”

“Astute,” drawled the demon, before a brow swept upward and he asked, “What do you know about Purgatory?”

Dean stiffened, feeling his blood turn to ice in his veins. He sensed Cas hovering worriedly by his side, probably noting the change in the hunter’s posture. Dean tried to swallow the knot in his suddenly dry throat, to remember how to speak.

Blinking, Sam gave a shake of his head. “Purgatory? Isn’t that a Catholic belief? Like, a waiting room or something after you die?”

The demon’s eyes glinted darkly, never wavering from Dean’s. The hunter spoke, voice oddly devoid of emotion as he did. “Purgatory is a dimension separate from this one. Heaven, Hell, Earth, and Purgatory. It’s where all monsters apparently hail from, and where monsters go in death. It’s a place that makes Hell look like a child’s playground, filled with things too terrible even for them.”

A pleased smile, dark and sharp crossed Crowley’s features, while Sam blinked in surprise, regarding his brother.

“Where did you learn that?”

Forcing himself to swallow and keep his voice even, Dean responded, “I read it in a book.”

“Gold star, Winchester.” Crowley’s voice was dark silk filled with unspoken threat. He blinked and his expression was back to normal, hands clasping together as he walked a few steps, then pivoted to regard them. “Word is: there’s a… leak, of sorts. It’s a very old wall holding back Purgatory, after all. The atmosphere over there is leaking through and affecting the monsters in this realm, making them more feral than ever, all blind aggression and violent behavior. When souls are dragged down into the pit, they technically pass through Purgatory, but much like an apparition, they don’t interact. The wall between realms is cracked and breaking though, jagged at the edges, damaging the souls before they even make it downstairs. Give them time, they go rabid, worse still, they can infect other demons with their corrupted state.”

He shrugged and paced back to his starting point, hands in pockets while they all watched his every move. “If you’ve thought the effect on monsters was bad, you haven’t even seen the things that live in Purgatory, the threat they pose to this world.” His gaze flicked to each of them, all hint of amusement gone. Dean saw the same flicker of fear in his eyes that he’d seen in Meg’s that day weeks earlier. “If that wall breaks, and all those monsters are unleashed… your little angel apocalypse is going to look like tea and cookies by comparison.

‘They will destroy this world, Heaven, and Hell. I don’t even know what will become of them after that, because even when everything else is destroyed, they will still continue to exist, creating their very own nightmare dimension, a black hole that will consume everything else in creation.”

Sam sounded choked when he spoke. “How do we fix the wall? How do we keep Purgatory from breaking free?”

Lips pursed, Crowley angled his head, regarding them seriously for a moment before his posture relaxed and he shrugged elegantly. “Couldn’t say.”

“C-couldn’t say?” sputtered Dean, taking a threatening step forward. Cas grabbed his elbow and held him back though Dean didn’t even notice. “You show up to tell us the world is about to burn, and you don’t even have clue as to how to stop it?”

The demon king arched a brow, eyeing Dean with disinterest. “I’ve told you what I know, which is more than you had to work with before. Aren’t I generous?”

He vanished just as Dean launched himself forward again, fists clenched. Castiel caught him around the waist to restrain him, growling “Dean” in a warning tone.

Arms folded over her chest, Gabbie regarded the spot that Crowley has just been standing, her gaze distant, thoughtful. Heaving a breath, she glanced at the humans by the porch.

“Welp, guess that’s my cue. See ya around, kids!”

She vanished as well.

“Wait!” Sam called out, then spun around, searching the yard for her. “Gabbie!”

Snorting, Bobby readjusted his cap and turned to head back into the house, pausing in his grumbling and cursing to grouse, “C’mon, boys. We’ve got work to do,” before he disappeared into the house.

Mouth agape, Dean could do little but stare at the spot Crowley had stood only moments earlier, panic rising and twisting his stomach in knots as everything in him screamed in denial that this could not be happening, couldn’t.

There was a tentative touch to his shoulder from Cas, while Sam huffed angrily and moved to storm into the house after Bobby, cursing Tricksters, archangels, and demon kings with such a colorful array of adjectives and expletives that, under normal circumstances, it would have made his brother and Bobby proud.

Dean stood rooted to the ground, knowing he couldn’t go in the house, knew if anyone questioned him on what he knew about Purgatory he might end up screaming. Moving into his line of sight, Cas shifted to catch Dean’s eye, expression questioning while he remained silent.

Swallowing, Dean grabbed him by the hand and began dragging him away from the house. “I need to talk to you,” he growled.

Behind them, he heard Sam call out, but just threw up a hand dismissively as he hauled the angel away. If he did start screaming, or worse, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the house when he broke down.

They were on the far end of the salvage yard before either of them spoke, surrounded by ruined automobiles and corrosion, and as far from other ears as Dean could get them. He released Castiel to pace, one hand covering his mouth and the other buried in his thick hair.

Blue eyes tracked his movements carefully. “Dean. What’s wrong? You’re in a panic.”

“I can’t do it,” he spat out, shaking his head rapidly. “I can’t go through this, Cas. It’ll kill me.”

The former angel frowned in confusion and gave an infinitesimal shake of his head. “Go through what? Another battle for the planet? Another apocalypse? Is that what you’re afraid of?” He shook his head again. “You have allies-“

Dean spun around to face him. “No, Cas! Purgatory!” The other man fell silent. The blond swallowed thickly. “Do you know what I know about Purgatory? How I know about Purgatory? Chuck’s books, Cas!” He shook his head, moving back as far as the bond would let him, feeling the tug of his heart when he reached the maximum distance he and Cas could safely have between them. “You thought I was crazy when I called you in a panic about the war in Heaven that wasn’t, but if the things in Purgatory are threatening to break free, then those books weren’t all wrong and we have a serious fucking problem on our hands!” he exclaimed, voice cracking. He could feel his eyes prick as the events from the books played out in his head, of what he had wanted so badly to save them from.

“Dean,” tried Cas gently, face a mix of confusion and concern.

The hunter crossed the space between them, hands fisting in the front of the other man’s jacket, as he asked demandingly, “I told you, remember? Okay, so the civil war didn’t come to pass, but Chuck’s books talked about Purgatory, about you lying to me and joining forces with Crowley in order to harness the power of souls and everything else in Purgatory! I’m not scared of fighting another war, dammit! I lose my family all over again in this! You turn against me, break my brother’s mind, hell, you completely put Lucifer to shame by absorbing all the souls and then declaring yourself the new _God_ , before threatening to wipe us off the map if we don’t bow down and worship you!”

He gave the other man a shake, hands clenched so tightly in his jacket that his fingers hurt. “Then? You _die_ , Cas! You come to us too late to help you and you die, right in front of me, and my brother’s mind is still shattered, and I _can’t go through that_!”

He pushed away from the angel, from the array of emotions crossing over the other man’s face.

Dean shook his head, voice hoarse when he spoke, “I already told you: I can’t lose my family again.” He swallowed thickly, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. “I sold my soul once to save my brother, tied it to yours to keep you on earth. I can’t lose you, either of you, and survive it.” He began rapidly shaking his head, feeling his breath start to come in short gasps as a hot tear fell down his face. “I can’t, I can’t-“ he choked.

His words were cut off as Castiel crossed the space between then, wrapping his arms around the hunter with a soothing sound. Dean hugged him back, clung to him, panic making him feel like he were suffocating and coming apart at the seams. His hands trembled where they gripped Cas tightly, while his mind played out vivid images of Sam tucked in a protective ball and screaming, of Castiel bloodied and no longer breathing. He clamped his eyes shut tightly against it, tried to block it out and failed.

The thumb of Cas’ hand rubbed idly against Dean’s back while the angel murmured softly into his hair, the entirety of it too soothing. The hunter didn’t want to be calm. Adrenaline fueled panic and anger seemed much better weapons to fight with than calm. He wanted to rail angrily, violently. He couldn’t bring himself to push away from Castiel, to escape the quiet washing over him, the sense of being grounded that the other man offered.

The sound of Cas’ voice in his ear made him relax further into the embrace. “Dean, I will never betray you.” Dean whimpered, gritting his teeth at the mental image of Cas in a ring of holy fire while the hunter was forced to turn his back and walk away. “I will protect you and your brother to the best of my ability until I am no longer able.”

He didn’t offer false platitudes and hope, only what he had to give: loyalty.

Pulling back enough to look at him, Dean shook his head. “I can’t do this, Cas.”

The hand that had been in his hair shifted to cup his face, thumb tracing his cheek bone as blue eyes bore into Dean’s. “You won’t have to do it alone.”

The sincerity in those words was what did it, helped him regain control of himself, even while still terrified. He stepped away, nodding with solemn resolve, composure returning. They could do this. They’d done it before. They would get through this together.

Sucking in an audible breath, Dean released it in a huff and stepped around Cas, the angel immediately following as the hunter began weaving through the towers of rusted cars again, determination set on his face.

“C’mon then. If we’re looking to face down another battle to protect the planet, I am not spending another minute stuck in this body. I need a shower. Now.”

 

While Dean got a shower, he and Cas tossed ideas back and forth for where to start with the Purgatory problem, the former angel writing everything down as they did.

Contacting the angels was one of the first things they planned to do, or at least, attempt to. Heaven had to have the most information on Purgatory if God created it. At the same time, they would need to start contacting everyone in the hunter community, to get the word out and start collecting everything anybody had on Purgatory, in all its incarnations throughout the religions and mythologies of the world.

Cas talked to Charlie on the phone while Dean toweled off and got dressed, already feeling off-kilter again with the sudden form change, the height difference and balance shift. When the other man finished recruiting Charlie’s help for research, he turned back to face Dean, who was now leaning against the door frame waiting.

Castiel’s face broke into a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Dean.”

The hunter grinned in return. “It’s good to be seen.” He inclined his head toward the phone. “Charlie gonna put her awesome powers of research to use and help us out?”

The other man nodded as they stepped out into the hall. “Indeed. She began coding a program while we were still on the phone.”

Nodding, he held up an index finger as they headed downstairs. “Oh, we will probably need to summon Gabbie and trap her; see if we can’t get her to help us with the other gods. Most religions have a concept of Purgatory, so who better to ask. This affects them, too.”

They came to a faltering halt when they entered the living room, Cas running into Dean’s back, before looking up with a start and then frown. Becky was now seated at Bobby’s desk, fingers flying over her keys in a way that really made Dean wonder what she was working on. In the kitchen, Sam was seated at the table, back to the living room and already pouring over a massive, decrepit tome while Bobby had a phone pressed to his ear, ‘uh huh’ing occasionally and preparing chili on the stove.

Seated- no, ‘seated’ implied a more rigid posture and stance. _Draped_ across the couch, wearing designer jeans and black jacket over a grey t-shirt, was a blond man looking thoroughly bored and exasperated by his current situation.

“Balthazar,” breathed Cas at Dean’s back, making the newcomer look up, brows raised.

His face lit up as he straightened, smiling fondly. “Hello, Cassie.”

Dean was giving his friend a startled look. “Wait. Balthazar? Balthazar actually _exist_? He’s not just a character in the books?”

The freelance writers had apparently been given access to more of Chuck’s notes than Dean bargained for. He scowled at the older angel, gaze raking him over from head-to-toe. Just looking at him, Dean didn’t think he’d be any fonder of the real version than he had been of the pompous ass one in the books.

Becky was regarding the man in surprise. “I didn’t even hear you come in. How long have you been there?”

In the kitchen, both Sam and Bobby were now armed and sizing up the intruder. Rising fluidly, Balthazar smoothed his hands over his jacket, flashing his palms at Bobby and Sam.

“Relax. I’m a friendly, alright? Here on business,” he said with a slight snort and eye roll, before looking at Castiel with a pointed look and shake of his head that screamed ‘How do you put up with them?’.

Yep. Dean definitely didn’t like him. He looked over to Cas for backup, faltering at the look on his face. Cas was staring _dumbstruck_ at his sibling, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around his sudden presence in Bobby Singer’s living room.

Seeing this, Dean took over instead, meeting Balthazar’s gaze with a glare.

“You’re an angel,” he said, making it sound as much like an accusation as possible.

The other man gave him a patronizing smile. “ _Excellent_ deduction skills, Sherlock.”

Expression hardening, Dean ground out, “Heaven closed the gates. All angels were forced back upstairs. How are _you_ here?”

Grace intact, he didn’t say.

Stepping around him, Castiel asked, “Balthazar, how are you alive? You’ve been missing in action- presumed dead- for centuries. You never returned from your last mission.”

The older man pointed at Dean, while throwing Cas a wink. “They can’t force you back in they don’t know you’re alive and on earth, now can they?”

“Why are you here?” demanded Castiel. “If you’ve been in hiding all this time, why come out of it now?”

Lips pursed, the other angel waggled his head back and forth a moment, considering. “Well, ‘in hiding’ isn’t exactly right.” He looked at his brother. “My orders were to disappear after a particular mission went bad. I’ve been deep, _deep_ undercover. I work behind the scenes now.”

Gun put away, Sam frowned at the new angel. “You said you were here on business?”

Shooing Becky away from the desk, Balthazar cleared the space with a wave and then snapped his fingers, causing an assortment of bowls and bottles, oils and herbs to appear across its surface. He quickly busied himself separating and mixing things with practiced, efficient movements.

“That is very much true. Time being? Still in hiding, though it’s about to come to an end. The wall to Purgatory breaking down spurs all manner of things to action, wouldn’t you agree? And well, when Dad gives orders, we do what He says.”

From her position on the couch, Becky was rapidly scribbling away on a notepad, eyes flicking up only to glance at each of them before she went back to recording the event in short hand.

Scoffing, Dean demanded, “So what? Heaven and Hell trying to jump start Armageddon wasn’t enough for Him, He waits until the wall to Purgatory is about to blow before He steps in to do something?”

Balthazar hummed in amusement, smiling as he continued to work, measuring out a powder before pouring it into a bowl. “That’s cute. You think I’m here to help you save the world.” He waved one hand vaguely and their duffel bags appeared out of thin air, falling to the ground at their feet with soft ‘thumps’. “Dad has a plan He’s working on that, frankly, has the rest of us assigned to this particular detail a little worried. As a precautionary measure- one our Father assures us is unnecessary- I am here to send you three to a safe house in the event that His plan does not go quite as smoothly as He is expecting.”

“A plan that doesn’t involve fixing Purgatory?” Dean demanded. “What the Hell is He doing?”

Pleasant and condescending smile plastered on his face, Balthazar lifted his head and said, “If you must know, He’s releasing Michael and Lucifer from the Cage.”

“He what?” they all demanded, horrified.

The angel lifted his gaze to give an appreciative nod. “That was pretty much my initial reaction,” he said.

 Sam looked like he might pass out. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed his chair from earlier and dragged it closer to collapse into. Dean was steadily shaking his head, torn between denial and certainty he must have misheard.

            “You said _God_ is  _letting_  Michael and Lucifer out of the cage?” he croaked.

            A foot away, Castiel stood rooted to the ground, looking very much like he might need to sit down as well.

            Shrugging, Balthazar waved a hand dismissively, setting one bowl of ingredients to the side and beginning to prepare another. “Now you see why the angels assigned to this mission were a little apprehensive, and why we are sending _you_ to Savannah.”

            Scoffing, Dean fought back his urge to throw up. “If He lets Mike and Lucy out ain’t  _nobody_  safe, especially not us!”

            This… this could not be happening, was not happening. The wall to Purgatory breaking down was bad enough, but if Michael and Lucifer got free?

            Dean’s brain could not even provide an image of how bad that would be, of the destruction they were looking at, the loss of life they would have to contend with, and that was only _if_ the wall to Purgatory didn’t explode and everything ended up destroyed.

            “Dad always knows what he’s doing, even if the rest of us don’t,” Balthazar assured him. “He’s simply indulging the more cautious of us by allowing us to send you somewhere they can’t come directly after you.” He waved, unperturbed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

            Unable to believe the sheer idiocy he was hearing, Dean pointed at Cas as the other man turned to look at him. “You’re family is crazy,” he declared. “Completely and utterly off their rockers, smoking the good drugs, out of their heads kind of crazy!” He glared at Balthazar again. “We already have a war we are preparing to fight, one that is threatening to leave Earth, Heaven, and Hell nothing more than a _black hole hell dimension_ , and now your dad is gonna-“ His words choked off and he shook his head, unable to even articulate, so he pointed at the angel smirking like he found Dean particularly amusing. “You’re crazy.”

            Coming around the desk, the blond angel shrugged carelessly, like he really wasn’t worried about what he’d just announced, wasn’t worried that they were now most definitely facing down certain annihilation. He grabbed Cas by the elbow and led him to the center of the room, Dean shadowing him protectively, and nearly growling at the familiar way the angel made contact, glancing back at Dean to give him this…  _look_ , this smug, arrogant look and Dean pretty much knew right then and there, Balthazar was one angel he hated more than any other.

            Dean didn’t get to call him on it, or cuss him, or even beat his face in with a crowbar, like he  _really_  would have liked to, because suddenly the bastard was talking again, motioning Sam over to stand next to his brother and their friend.

            “When you get there, she’s naturally going to be very suspicious of you, but she has to take you in.” He snapped his fingers and they were all carrying their duffel bags on their shoulders. “Remind her of her calling to take up banner and sword for others and she should do it, or at the very least, hear you out. Assure her it’s only for a day or so.”

He faltered in slitting his own wrist over one of the bowls he’d prepared, gaze distant as he considered. The blade slashed across the skin a moment later as his gaze refocused, blood pouring liberally, before the flow cut off and the wound sealed itself. “Well, we’ll see. We’ll try. A few days, a week, whatever. You’ll need to pick up a few things and bring them back with you as well, you’ll know when you see them. If you have to convince her of who you are, then you are in serious trouble, but do or say whatever it takes. She’ll keep you safe, so try to stay out of trouble best you can while you’re there.”

            “And what are we supposed to do while at this safe house?” demanded Sam, their eyes tracking Balthazar’s movements as he poured the contents of the bowl in a circle around their feet. “Just sit around waiting for Purgatory to break free? For Michael and Lucifer to hunt us down?”

            Though his face wasn’t visible, the movement of his head made it clear the angel was rolling his eyes in exasperation. “No, I fully expect you to end up pulling your hair out, wringing your hands, and being generally _useless_ as you fret needlessly, unable to do anything productive until you are retrieved.”

He straightened, regarding the three of them and then the circle and sigils they stood in the center of. He sighed tiredly, stepping away to put the bowl on the desktop. Castiel was regarding the markings on floor with a frown.

Bobby glowered, arms folded. “That better not stain my rug,” he grumbled lightly.

Something scratched at the back of Dean’s mind as he glanced at the red-tinted sigils around him, then to the angel who had written them. Castiel looked at his sibling.

“Balthazar.” He gestured to their feet. “What are these? I neither recognize them nor can I read them.”

“Transportation sigils,” the blond told him simply, as the memory came back to Dean and his eyes widened. “Where you are going I cannot physically take you. You might want to brace yourselves,” he warned, placing the heels of his palms together down by his side, reminiscent of a Tai Chi pace.

Dean swore. Balthazar pivoted, thrusting his hands forward, palms out and yelling in a language that had probably never been spoken on earth. The elder Winchester grabbed blindly for Castiel, grip tightening painfully just as a wind like a hurricane hit all three of them full force, knocking the trio head over heels off their feet and backwards.

Rather than crashing into the table and cabinets of Bobby’s kitchen, all three of them hit gravel with excruciating pain, skidding and rolling before the world stopped spinning and they were left gasping for air. Eyes flying open, Dean sucked in a breath, gaze finding the blue of the sky and a canopy of trees overhead, while a particularly sharp rock dug painfully into his shoulder blade.

He coughed, groaning as he tried to push himself up. “Everybody okay?”

Castiel was sprawled across the hunter’s legs, pushing himself to his hands and knees with a wince. “I’m fine.”

The hunter craned his neck around, searching for his brother. “Sammy?”

“I’m-ah-“ Tossing a rock aside that had gotten him right in the hip, Sam knocked tiny shards of gravel off his hands. “I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow,” he acknowledged with a frown of distaste.

Accepting the angel’s hand, Dean rose to his feet, looking around and taking in their surroundings. Cas bent to gather their bags again.

“Where are we?” wondered the younger Winchester.

Dean snorted. “Nowhere I was expecting,” he said.

“Where were you expecting?” Sam asked cautiously.

His brother looked at him pointedly, one brow quirking. “All honesty? Alternate dimension where we’re actors in a show about our lives.”

His brother frowned, clearly trying to absorb that little bit of information, his mouth opening in a question, then snapping shut again, he regarded the building in front of them instead.

“Okay…” he began slowly. “Then where are we if not there?”

They were in the small parking lot behind a Victorian style home that had apparently been converted into four apartments. A privacy fence separated the small complex from the large houses on either side of it; the apartment building obviously less cared for. Its paint was peeling in spots, the stairs leading to the second floor unfinished and unpainted.

Arching a brow, Dean rubbed a hand over his sore ribs and then his stomach as it growled loudly, reminding him of what Gabbie had told him. He shifted his weight to his back foot and folded his arms, regarding the aged building in front of them. “If this is the safe house? We are in so much trouble.”

His brother moved to stand beside him, head angling. “I dunno, Dean. I mean, look at Bobby’s.”

“Point,” conceded Dean. He side-eyed the man on his other side. “Cas? Don’t suppose you’re picking up any vibes or anything?”

“I see exactly as you do, Dean,” he stated, eyes playing over the building curiously, yet focused, like he were willing himself to be able to see beyond what his human eyes showed him. He pointed to one of the apartments on the ground floor. “We should try that one.” The brothers regarded him questioningly. “If Savannah is a person and not a place, that apartment is clearly inhabited by a female. The other three have no obvious outward signs of even being lived in.”

The Winchesters regarded the apartment the angel had indicated, taking in the potted Gardenia plant at the foot of the steps leading to the porch, the stained glass art of sunflowers hanging in the kitchen window, and had to agree with their friend’s assessment.

Sam and Cas both looked questioningly at Dean. The hunter pulled a face and held out a closed fist to his brother, who sighed and rolled his eyes, before stalking off.

“Just walk up and knock, Dean. Geez. We were sent here to find help, remember?” He shot his older sibling a look. “Besides, you always lose at Rock, Paper, Scissors, why even bring it up?”

Castiel fell into step beside Dean as they trailed after the taller male. “I suppose I could have volunteered to be the one to knock.”

Grinning, Dean gave him a sideways glance. “Nah. Sam’s much better at dealing with people. He’s my secret weapon when I don’t want a trigger-happy hunter shooting first and asking questions never. He looks far less likely to be the guy you want to shoot.” As they climbed the few steps to her back porch he said, “Of course, were I still a girl, I’d probably be the one knocking. Threat level assessment and all that.”

A dog started barking inside the apartment as soon as Sam knocked, making Dean roll his eyes. A moment later they could hear a woman on the other side soothing the animal until it silenced and the door swung inward. The girl standing there blinked in surprise, even going so far as to do a double-take, before her expression closed off and her eyes hardened.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” she said, keeping one hand on the door and using her body to block the entrance into her home. Not that her slight form could have stopped them. She arched a brow. “How can I help you?” she questioned as the blue hill dog sat pointedly by her side, the message clear.

Uncertain, Sam glanced at his older brother who shrugged and shifted the bag on his shoulder. The taller male looked back at the girl.

In Dean’s opinion, he still had no idea how this girl was supposed to help them or how this place was a safe house. From what he could tell from the surrounding buildings and massive oaks, they were in the historic district somewhere in the Southern states. The girl was not a hunter that he could tell, about the same size as Jo had been, but with stark white hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and bangs that framed her face. She was fit, and tan, which either suggested she  _might_  could be a hunter, or was at least athletic in some capacity. The mistrustful way she was regarding all of them, the way her expression closed off, was the only thing to make him think she might be in the life.

Sam licked his bottom lip, clearly not sure what to use as an opener. “Uh, hi. We-we’re looking for, uh, Savannah?” She brow ticked that much higher. “My name’s Sam,” he told her, before indicating the other two men. “This is my brother Dean and our fri-“

“I know who you are,” she interjected, making Sam straighten, his mouth clicking shut. Her brown eyes flicked to each man. “And I’m Savannah, though I go by Savvy.”

They all glanced at each other. Cas spoke, “We were told you could help us.”

She looked at him. “Help you how?”

“We were told this was a safe house where we could lie low for a few days,” Sam explained.

Her frown deepened as she regarded them, mistrust and confusion warring in her eyes. Sucking in a breath through her nose, she cut a hand through the air. “Okay. I’m totally lost.” She shifted and crossed her arms, glare shifting to a look of concentration. “Why are you here? I did not enter into any kind of sweepstakes, and don’t think there even  _is_  one for this, and none of my friends signed me up if you called me ‘Savannah’, because  _no one_  calls me that. And seriously, why are you introducing yourselves as your characters, because as a fan, I  _know_  who you are, so I am really not seeing-“

Opening his mouth, Sam was cut off from speaking by Dean laying a hand on his arm as he moved closer to better see the woman. The two other men watched with looks of equal confusion.

“So the books were right?” Dean asked her. “We  _are_  a TV show?”

She looked as confused as they felt. “What kind of punk  _is_  this?” she wondered, brows drawn together.

Dean held up a hand, whistling. “God, I wish this were a joke, but it is so,  _so_  real and our lives never stop being weird.” He shook his head. “Look. We were sent to you, told to remind you of your calling or duty to take up banner and sword for others, that you could help us these couple of days we have to lay low.” Now it was Sam looking at him like he’d lost him mind as she blinked with a start. Suddenly exhausted, the elder Winchester sighed just as his stomach let out another rumble. “May we come in?”

With one last glance to each of them, Savvy stepped aside and waved them into her kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. Harley, go lay down.”

The dog did as instructed as they all filed in. Their hostess shook her head in disbelief, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose. “This cannot be happening. My life cannot be that weird.”

“Honey, you don’t know about weird,” Dean told her.

She cracked one eye open to look at him, mouth curling up in a smile for the first time. “Oh, trust me, Winchester: I know all about weird.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and comments more than welcome. 
> 
> Also, thanks as always to the awesome Oppisum for all of her help with this story.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Sorry for the trip up in scheduling lately. I’ve started doing profession audiobooks on top of my regular 8-5 job, and well, RL takes priority. I’ll try to make sure the next update is on time like it should be.

Chapter 12

They didn’t really get the time for explanations. They didn’t even reach Savvy’s living room before the room tilted for Dean and he stumbled, groping blindly for something to hold on to as his head swam, everything sounding as though he were under water. A hand instantly grasped his, arms catching him around the waist.

There were voices and people rushing around as he found his way, or maybe was helped to a chair, feeling light headed and sick at once. A drink was thrust into his hand moments later and he downed two glasses of orange juice in quick succession, almost immediately feeling less likely to pass out as they hit his stomach, fragments of sentences washing over him before they faded away again.

He didn’t fully come back to himself until he was sitting in a booth at a pizza place, having already apparently downed an entire basket of soft pretzels, bruschetta, and three cokes. His brain registered Sam’s concerned face across the booth first, the knowledge of Castiel at his side, thigh pressed to Dean’s under the oak table.

Hazel eyes filled with worry flicked over his older brother’s face as the blond took in his change of surroundings with confusion. “Dean?”

Swallowing thickly, Dean’s voice was gruff as he pointed at his brother. “We are  _never_  making a deal with Gabbie  _ever_  again, understand?” Sam shook his head earnestly, and Dean nodded. “Good.” He noticed the fearful look on the face of the girl in front of him then, the anxious way she kept glancing toward the kitchen. “Relax,” he said, pushing himself back to lean against the vinyl padding behind him. “I’m fine.”

She nodded, sliding her cup of water closer to him when his eyes fell on it. He accepted it and quickly began to drain it as well. “So basically, when you lost mass, you’re body purged itself to compensate?” Brown eyes studied him. “And when you returned to normal and gained mass, your body needed calories to fuel the change and restore itself?”

“Basically,” he agreed.

“And your stomach is a black hole right now until you fill the meter to where it needs to be?” He frowned. She gestured to the basket and glasses in front of him, before Sam and Cas grabbed them to make it look like they had all finished their individual drinks. “You had two glasses of orange juice and the rest of my banana smoothie that was in the blender from this morning. That was before we left the house. Then you just wolfed down all that. You should be  _vomiting_.” His stomach let out another loud rumble of hunger, feeling cavernous and empty. She pursed her lips, gaze distant and considering. “Interesting science there.”

The waitress came and gave them all fresh drinks and a new basket of pretzels, while Dean glanced around the cramped establishment decorated in tie-die and bead curtains.

“Where are we?” he demanded.

“Best pizza place in town,” Savvy told him. “Mellow Mushroom.” He gave her a questioning look and she shrugged. “I think it’s an old ‘stoner with the munchies’ joke? This place has been here forever, I don’t know.” Her gaze cast around.

He glanced at Sam and Castiel. “You two fill her in while I was getting my Famine on?”

The former angel chuckled and nodded. Dean grinned and pushed the basket of pretzels to the center of the table. “I think I can be generous and share now. So long as they don’t take forever coming out with the food.”

He faltered then as he _really_ took in his surroundings again. Noticing for the first time that Sam’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail and Dean was wearing a baseball cap. He frowned, reaching up to touch the bib. “…the hell?” Beside him, Cas was wearing a pair of slightly tinted glasses.

“You  _are_  actors,” Savvy reminded him in a low voice and glanced around. “I have no idea who all could be a fan of the show and recognize you. They’re just things I had in my car.”

Considering this, Dean frowned, unable to imagine himself as an actor in any world. “So they really look like us?”

“Exactly like you.”

He gave a ‘huh’ just as the waitress came out with two large pizzas covered in toppings that made Dean frown. When the waitress left, he indicated the food.

“The hell?”

“They don’t serve regular pizza here. It’s all specialty pizza,” she told him, before looking at Sam beside her. “What do we need to do to get you home?”

Sighing, Sam loaded two slices of pizza onto his plate. “Honestly Savvy, I don’t think we have anything to do with it. Balthazar said something about needing to bring something back with us when we do go home, but that we would know it when we found it. Said we wouldn’t be able to do anything useful about the current problem while we’re here. We’re just supposed to lay low a couple of days.”

“We could research about this reality’s version of our lives,” Castiel suggested, after swallowing a bite of pesto pizza. “See if we can find anything useful. The events here are already several years into our future.”

“Following the books,” Dean argued. “Which weren’t written by Chuck, and that we possibly broke the connection between worlds by getting a new writer.”

Across the table, Sam pointed at him. “No, but Becky started writing the new books in accordance to what is actually happening in our lives, writing things as it happens rather than beforehand. Doesn’t that mean that the show should start following our lives correctly then?”

The woman across from Dean perked up with interest, holding up her index finger. “From what you’ve told me- and having seen the series? I highly doubt it ends up resembling your lives anymore. Also, y’all are friends with Becky?”

The two men looked at Dean. “Uh, sort of? We enlisted her help with writing the books-“ She looked vaguely horrified by this thought. “-under the condition she not pair me and Sam together and that she do her research. She’s…” He considered the blonde, the way she had immediately dropped everything to help them, had put up with the dismissive attitude they all gave her, and yet continued to work toward helping them. “Becky’s pretty okay, actually.”

She shrugged. “Well, I always adored her until that awful season seven episode where she was so out of character.” Drumming her fingers on the table, she ate and stared off into the distance. She finally said, “We can start in the morning, I guess. The Essentials Guide probably has the most pictures of sigils and stuff, it should show what Crowley and Cas used to open Purgatory, but if the books are wrong I seriously have no idea how helpful they’ll be. The companion guides are basic episode rundowns, and I don’t have the one for season six. Reapers apparently know how to get in and out of Purgatory, according to season eight, but you can’t see them under normal circumstances unless one has gone rogue.” She waved dismissively. “I’ll have to think. Anything else you want to try and do before you go home?”

Castiel nudged the hunter beside him, their gazes meeting. The blond man frowned at his friend a moment, before remembering what they had wanted to do once they’d gotten back to Bobby’s.

“Oh! Yeah. We need to get on that.”

The pair across from them blinked in confusion. Castiel told them, “I need to get an anti-possession tattoo, along with all my basic vaccinations.”

Sam gave their friend a sad smile, while Savannah watched them, mouth set in a slight frown.

“Cas is human now,” he explained to Savvy.

“I gathered that from the tattoo and vaccinations statement.”

Her brows were drawn together, her gaze flicking back and forth between them, assessing. Dean could practically hear the gears turning as he finished off another slice of pizza.

“What?” he asked.

She blinked, expression going impassive, brows raised curiously. “Huh?”

“You’re thinking something. What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“And?” she demanded, brow sweeping upward in challenge. “Dean. Everything you’re telling me is snippets of a familiar story out of context and out of order. Or either is something that I have no knowledge of having happened and clashes with my memory of how events took place. I assure you, I am probably  _way_  more confused than any of you.”

 

 

Sam woke up first the next morning, opening his eyes to  _red_  and blinking in confusion. He stretched on Savvy’s couch, pleased that her outdated sofa actually allowed him to sleep comfortably without have to curl his body or try to find a comfortable position. Rolling over, he regarded the room. It was dark, the drawn curtains filtering out the early morning sun from outside.

In the middle of the living room, Cas and Dean were sharing the air mattress, the two friends fast asleep with their backs pressed together, mimicking in sleep how they were when awake. He smiled and pushed to his feet, carefully navigating around them, from the living room and into the dining area.

Savvy had shown him where all the coffee and tea stuff was the day before. He might as well get started on the research they would need to do while here, though he honestly had no idea what item it was that they could be looking for. It might be in one of the books, or be one of the books themselves. He faltered by the open door to Savvy’s room, her bed inside made. Frowning, he looked toward the kitchen again and then cautiously stepped toward her bedroom.

“Savvy?”

“Back here,” she called.

He followed the voice further into her room, into the small office attached to it. Their hostess was still dressed in sleep pants and a novelty t-shirt, sitting at her desk going through a stack of paperwork and invoices, entering information off different sheets before setting it aside in a basket and inputting the next into her accounting software.

Sam took the opportunity to look around the space, the two laden down book cases, the wall scrolls and framed comics and signed artwork on the walls. There were figures of anime and videogame characters on her shelves. He inspected her bookcases as she continued to work, silence falling over the room save for her fingers on the keys and the rhythmic turning of paper. He plucked a particular book from its place, the spiral binding nudging his curiosity. He flipped through the comic book she had apparently printed out and bound together.

“You can read it if you want,” she said suddenly, making Sam realize the sound of her working had fallen silent several moments earlier. She sat regarding him now, expression carefully blank. Her dog was asleep in a ball under her desk. “I only printed out the first hundred pages, but there is a lot more to the series now.”

Nodding, he replaced to book on the shelf. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He indicated the arm chair in the corner and she gestured wordlessly. Seated, the two of them regarded each other silently for a long time, her eyes flicking over his face as he studied her until her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What?”

“You’re being very guarded and careful around us,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “Logical given the circumstances.”

“You watch, assess, and analyze everything,” he continued, “but you don’t say anything.”

“It’s both my personality and strategic.” She made a vague gesture toward her book shelves. “In case you failed to notice, I’m a fangirl. The books I gave you about your own lives should indicate I’m a  _huge_   _Supernatural_  fangirl as well. You showing up at my door is like a twelve-year-old’s self-insert, Mary Sue fanfic come to life. It’s freaking weird, yet totally plausible given your lives.” She shook her head. “Forgive me if I’m coming across as rude, but I am still trying to come to terms with the weirdness factor here, and my deeply ingrained desire not to be mocked is still wondering if this isn’t a very elaborate and cruel joke. I’m keeping my mouth shut and constantly reminding myself that while I know all of you?  _I’m_  a complete stranger, and I do _not_ want you to think all of your fans are Becky. And I don’t want to be treated the way you treat her, either. I am being on my best behavior until you get to know me.” She waved dismissively and changed the subject. “What are you doing up?”

“Years of habit. Was gonna get started on researching through the books you gave us.”

She retrieved a folder filled with paper and handed it to him. “Here. I looked up all this as well. Mostly to do with Purgatory across various religions. We can go by the downtown library later, if you want. It’s about ten minutes from here.”

He regarded her again, trying to see what made this girl different, why they had been sent to her. Granted, she took them in without a fight, which had been great, and she had actually been able to supply them with research material, albeit into their own lives from her world’s perspective, but it was a starting point.

“Savvy, why’d you take us in?” he asked, finally, shaking his head. “You’re still clearly not comfortable with us being here, so why help us?”

“What you said about taking up banner and sword for the sake of others.” She shrugged. “It was spoken to me years ago by God through a prophet. In the past it’s always… never mind. That you were told to tell me that is what made me trust you, because no one else knows it was spoken to me. I took you in because you’re  _the Winchesters_ , and any help I can give, you can have. I’m a little nervous about you being here because you’re  _the Winchesters_ , and where you are, the bad things are as well.” Sighing, she glanced at her computer. “Okay, well, I’ve finished my bookkeeping for the day, unless Christie gives me a call, so I’m free for whatever you guys need.”

He nodded, head angling to the side. “Thanks. Can you tell me more about  _Supernatural_?” he asked, watching her face carefully. “It’s a TV show here, right? But apparently not what Dean was expecting from what he read in the books?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Savvy let it out in a sigh and shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not sure how that works. A guess would be that some people’s creativity is simply the ability to see events in another reality. Kind of like a prophet.” Her eyes were focused on the middle distance. “What Dean said about the books in your world seems to follow the events of season six here pretty closely, actually, but that season wasn’t written by Eric Kripke, the creator of  _Supernatural_. Our version of Chuck. The show and your world- and its books-  _have_  to be linked, but the show here is far more advanced into the future than your lives, so I think what I know is mostly fiction. Some of the same people and events are the same, like Cas becoming human and what with y’all meeting Charlie, but storyline wise? I have no idea.” She gave another shake of her head. “I mean, the most recent season is, like, five years in your future and nothing that is happening currently to you is in it.”

Disappointed, Sam nodded. He’d hoped the television series and books of this world might be able to offer them insight into what was to come, how to handle it, especially since Becky was recording their lives for them now, that that might correlate to the television show in this world. Maybe the show in this world followed what the books would have been about had Dean not gotten involved, or maybe they now followed a storyline completely original to this version of reality. There was really no way of knowing.

Savvy gave him an apologetic smile, and then rose. Sam followed her out of the room and into her bedroom where she shooed him back into the dining room. “Now it’s time for my morning jog with Harley.”

She shut the door on him. He chuckled, trying to gauge if she were being serious or if she was avoiding being left alone with the three men. He turned to go make coffee so the research could begin.

 

 

Dean and Cas spent half of the first day running errands, first to get Cas caught up on all his shots at a clinic that thankfully didn’t ask any questions, though they’d had a story prepared just in case, then to get Cas an anti-possession tattoo. The angel was quiet through the whole day. Dean tried to keep it off his own face how much he hated Cas having to get these things done, how much it hurt that he needed them.

They’d had to wear disguises again, too. Dean was in a fedora hat and rectangular glasses that had non-prescription lenses in them. Savvy had waved away his question as to why she had them. “Fashion, cosplay, Halloween, take your pick.” Cas was wearing a beanie and sunglasses.

Dean would have thought it ridiculous, save for the fact that one of the nurses at the clinic had done a double-take when she’d seen them, then kept stealing glances, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as if trying to ascertain where she recognized them from. They’d both kept their heads down and avoided eye contact after that.

Getting Cas inked went by without incident, save for when Castiel indicated where he wanted the tattoo, over his hip bone rather than where Dean and Sam had theirs. The hunter had sent him a questioning look, even while carefully not thinking about the matter too closely. In response, Cas had placed a hand on his chest, indicating where Dean’s hand print was burned into his skin. Ah, yeah, well there was that to consider and keep hidden, though he didn’t think it would really raise question.

Before he’d started working, the tattoo artist warned Cas that where he’d chosen would probably cause the process to hurt more. Dean suggested a few other places, but Cas shook his head and nodded resolutely. The hunter sat beside him, letting the droning buzz of the needle wash over him, feeling his stomach turn once again at all that Cas had lost, had been reduced to, and hating it.

It wasn’t until Cas’ stoic demeanor cracked and he let out a hiss of pain that Dean broke, reaching out to squeeze his friend’s hand, thumb stroking over the back of it. The angel looked at him in surprise, and Dean met his gaze, willing the angel to fully understand.

“I’m sorry,” he told him.

Blue eyes studied him a moment, before Cas gave him a smile and squeezed his fingers in return. Neither of them spoke anymore after that, and neither one of them let go of the other.

 

By the time they’d gotten back to Savvy’s, all the vaccinations and the tattoo experience had taken their toll and Savvy sent Cas to take a nap in her room, not questioning when Dean grabbed a couple of the books and notes Sam had already made and followed after him. Propping pillows against the headboard, Dean used a reading light to illuminate the books while Cas settled unhappily against the mattress.

“I thought these vaccinations were supposed to keep me from falling ill, not make me feel like I’m in the process of a complete systems failure.”

Dean snorted and glanced at the man who was glaring at the ceiling. “Most people don’t have to get them all at once, and some can make you feel pretty miserable. Trust me, whatever you are feeling now is better than if you caught anything. You’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“Have we heard anything from Balthazar? Have there been any sort of signs?”

Sighing, Dean shook his head. “No. He said it would be a couple of days at least.” A derisive snort escaped him. “I can’t believe God is planning on letting Michael and Lucifer out. I mean, there’s no logic there at all. What can it possibly serve, especially given the fact that Purgatory is about to blow.”

There was silence for a long time, Dean continuing to flip through the massive Essentials guide, studying different sigils and markings he saw. The book was not especially helpful. It gave a basic rundown of the television show season by season, and it was creepy as hell to see photographs of their own lives, but it didn’t exactly go into detail about Purgatory. It was more pictures than information, and lots of behind-the-scenes stuff. Though, according to the book, Crowley probably knew a lot more than what he’d told the Winchesters, which really was common sense given their interactions with the demon thus far.

Another _Supernatural_ book detailed mythology mentioned in the show and was really informative as to this reality’s lore on them, but unfortunately didn’t cover anything after the Apocalypse. Sam had put a sticky note on the front stating that Savvy had said they could have it and she would buy another. Apparently, the giant nerd was equally interested in reading it. It would be curious to see if things differed from their world to this one, or what things were different in the TV show.

“Dean,” said Cas suddenly. The hunter glanced at him, surprised he wasn’t asleep already. Rolling onto his side, Cas pushed himself up onto one elbow. “What was it that Meg told us that day in Alabama? About what was written on Lucifer’s Cage?”

“She said demons interpreted it wrong.”

The other man held up a finger. “She said it said Lucifer is set free and afterward demon-kind and earth are  _saved_.”

They stared at each other in the dim light, the day in question playing through Dean’s head of when he and Sam had been captured by infected demons and they’d begun to learn how wrong things really were.

He waved a hand quickly. “Whoa, whoa, wait. She also said that Lucifer rules over Hell from his position on earth, so what the hell does that mean? Are you saying you think God is letting Michael and Lucifer out, and that Lucifer saves the world?”

Snorting, Cas rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m saying that God wrote the prophecy, presumably, and that Earth and demons are in danger and in need of saving. Lucifer is about to be set free, as the prophecy says, by God himself. I’m saying, for whatever reason, Lucifer plays a part in saving the two worlds and returning balance.”

“Lucifer wants to  _destroy_  earth-“

“My brother wanted to destroy  _humanity_ ,” Cas corrected.

Dean scoffed. “That makes me feel so much better about this whole idea.”

Sighing, Cas laid back down, fingers interlacing over his stomach. “I’m not saying it’s great, but at least it’s something to go on. Lucifer was angry, he and Michael wanting their final fight. I’m guessing they’ve had about sixty years by now to fight out their differences without having to hold back.”

“You’re saying you think he’s worked through some of his pent up anger?” asked Dean, brow arching.

“I’m saying that Michael and Lucifer wanted their fight and got it,” Cas sighed tiredly. “My father is apparently back in the picture to some degree, and hopefully my family will stop fighting amongst themselves in order to fight toward the same end this time,” he said, allowing his eyes to slide shut.

Trying to imagine that and failing, Dean set down the mythology book and picked up Sam’s notes, eyes skimming the neat script and trying to keep the screaming part of his mind from coming out of his mouth.

“Try to get some sleep, Cas.”

 

 

Trouble still managed to find them even at their safe house. A substation explosion shook the windows of Savvy’s apartment, making them all duck and brace themselves, the floorboards rattled as everything was cast into darkness. The transformers outside blew as well, more noise and sparks of electricity. The only sound in the apartment were the vicious growls emanating from Harley, the humans waiting in a tense air, braced for another explosion, eyes and ears straining in the sudden silence. Outside, there were car alarms blaring all down the street and around them. Another substation exploded in the opposite direction.

Nobody moved for a minute, and then Savvy was moving about the darkened apartment with ease and retrieving weapons. She brought a wicked looking dagger from her room, along with a Louisville Slugger, an aluminum softball bat, and a bowie knife from various other places throughout the house. She retrieved them easily, but when the Winchesters had done a search of her apartment to make sure this wasn’t a set up, they hadn’t even noticed them. Of course, they hadn’t been looking for them either, more for demonic sigils and witchcraft.

Harley stood braced in the middle of the dining room growling low in her throat. Cas accepted the bowie knife Savvy offered him, and regarded it curiously as all three men quickly came to alert. Dean had Ruby’s knife; Sam took the wooden bat.

“Savvy, what the hell’s going on?” demanded Dean lowly.

She shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Something bad.” She glanced at him. “Can’t you feel it?”

They could, but that could have also been part of their training, after all. They always suspected everything, and there had just been several explosions.

“It could have been a car crash,” Sam offered reasonably. “And the substation blew, which affected the transformers.”

Peering through a crack in the curtains, Savvy agreed, “You’re right. It could be that. It could also be a crime ring, which has happened before. They blew everything up, then while everyone was out gawking, they robbed a bunch of houses and made off with TVs, game systems, and laptops. Looters are really bad around here, especially come hurricane season when the power is down for days.” She moved over into the kitchen while Dean took up her previous spot by the window. “But being that _you’re_ the Winchesters and you’re  _here_ …” She didn’t bother ending the sentence.

Sam looked questioning toward his older brother. “Do you think it’s Balthazar?”

“We didn’t set off explosions when we came,” the older man pointed out. “And in the books when we got sent to an alternate reality where our lives were a TV show, we had an angel assassin sent after us. Weapons Keeper of Heaven or whatever, so no, I don’t think whatever is happening is a good sign.”

“Guys, we’ve got hostiles,” Savvy said flatly from the back door.

Sure enough, there were three figures standing in the back parking area, illuminated only by the full moon overhead. Dean’s gaze flicked over them and he shook his head.

“Something’s wrong. That’s definitely not an angel.”

Savvy looked at him. “ _That’s_  what you noticed as being off? Not the fact that they’re moving like zombies? Or that they are wispy like smoke at the edges?”

He glared at her. “Stay here.”

Sam met her eye and nodded reassuringly as they unlocked the back door and went out onto the porch, then across the parking area, gravel crunching beneath their shoes in the darkness.

“Winchesters,” one of the figures hissed. She had red hair and solid black eyes, her form seeming blurred and wispy at the edges.

Clicking his tongue, Dean told her, “You don’t look so good.” His eyes raked over all three demons who were about in the same shape, their postures a little slumped, like they were already tired from fighting, but were trying to rally themselves for another round. “None of you do.”

“You will be the end of us,” she hissed in English, causing him to frown. Were they not infected? Or had it not progressed that far yet? But, if they weren’t infected, what was wrong with them? They were coming apart at a molecular level right in front of them. “You and your brother. You will destroy us all.”

The two demons with her separated and attacked then, launching themselves at the other two men while she released a lead pipe from the sleeve of her jacket and advanced on Dean with it. He readied Ruby’s knife in his hand. Behind him, Sam swung viciously at the demon attacking him, aiming for its head, while Cas sidestepped the man that lunged for him.

“If you die,” one of the men said, “then it will end.”

The woman swung her pipe at Dean, he ducked and swung, his fist connecting solidly with her jaw and sending her off balance.

“If we die, what will end?” he demanded, following with another swing.

A swell of panic made Dean turn back to Cas in time to see the demon he was grappling with on the ground, the demon straddling Cas’ waist with a brick raised to bring down on the former angel’s head. Not thinking, Dean tackled him, the demoness forgotten. The pair of them rolled across the uneven and sharp gravel, Dean landing in a crouch, Ruby’s knife at the ready. He shoved it home without hesitation, the blade meeting little resistance as it slid under the demon’s sternum and into his heart. With a grimace, Dean twisted the blade for good measure, yanking the blade back out as the man lit up and then slumped over dead.

Sam and the demoness were fighting each other then, staving off the other’s weapon with their own and trying to take vicious swings every opening they got.

“No!” Cas cried out, as the other demon made a run toward the house.

Harley came charging out the door, prompting a cry of alarm from the girl in the apartment. The dog launched herself at the demon with a vicious growl, teeth biting down hard on the demon’s thigh, causing a loud swear, followed by a sharp yelp as the demon hit the dog full force with a balled up fist.

Savvy was out the door in an instant, expression dark and furious as she leapt off the porch, dashed forward and into a batter’s stance, swinging full force with her bat at the back of the demon’s knees.

“Nobody messes with my dog, you bastard!”

He hit the ground with a cry as Savvy raised the bat and brought it down on his shoulder with a sickening crack, the demon releasing a yell as his arm dislocated and his collarbone snapped.

Cas held out a hand toward the blond hunter. “Dean!”

The elder Winchester threw him Ruby’s knife, which Cas deftly caught, whirling and shoving it under the demon’s jaw and into his skull. He sparked and sputtered from the inside out, then slumped dead to the ground as Castiel removed the blade, blood dripped off its tip.

Panting, Sam restrained the other demon as she snarled and swore, slipping back and forth between English and the hissing fire snap of a demonic dialect. There was blood trailing down the taller male’s temple as Dean approached them, taking Ruby’s knife back from Castiel. Savvy stood back, twirling her wrist and the bat in a way that spoke of training and nervous habit. Harley stood vigilantly by her side; her mistress absently patted her head as she glanced nervously over her shoulder down the driveway toward the road.

 Pointing the tip of the blade at the demon as she bared her teeth at Dean, he angled his head. “Tell me again why you’re here.”

“You will destroy us,” she hissed through her teeth. “With you dead, it will end.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you said that. What will end? What do you think we’re doing?”

“You are at the heart of it. We are dying and angels are fleeing and at the center of it is you, always you, now tucked away somewhere safe while the world implodes, only for you to return and declare your kingdom.”

He grabbed her by her hair, forcing her to look up at him as he pressed the blade into her throat. “Hey, hey, we are not responsible for whatever the hell is going wrong back home, okay? We want to stop it as much as you do, we didn’t come here voluntarily.” He scoffed. “What is with demons going around saying we’re trying to set up our own kingdom? We don’t want to rule anything!”

His grip on her hair was slipping. Not slipping, it was trickling through his fingers like sand as her form became more and more unstable.

“Dean!”

He turned back to Cas, who inclined his head to one of the demon’s on the ground. Black vapors rose off of its form like heat on a blacktop in summer before it melted into a black puddle. He spun around to the other body just as it did the same.

From her spot, Savvy frowned, head cocking to one side. “They turned into Leviathan goo?” she murmured softly.

The demoness was swearing again, all sharp sounds that Sam winced against. His long fingers curled tighter around her arms as she began to deteriorate, which caused black ooze to slide over his fingers. He released her with a start, staring down at his hands in horror and then at the demon now convulsing and melting into a black puddle before their eyes.

They all looked at each other, then Sam was suddenly eyeing the buildings around them anxiously.

“We need to get inside, or leave. We may need to leave.”

Moving over to grab the water hose, Savvy waved him off, turning on the water before she began spraying at one of the black puddles of ooze. “We just need to clean this up. With the explosions, no one is going to be looking in our parking area. No one lives upstairs, and Phillip is a crazy old drunk and druggie; he didn’t see anything, and no one would believe him if he did.” She glanced at each of them, eyes sharp. “Everyone okay? Sam, the medical kit is under the bathroom sink.”

The diluted black soaked into the ground as she sprayed it down, Dean eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re handling this well.” He pointed to the spot where the demon she’d attacked had been. “That was pretty brutal what you pulled.” She met his gaze. “You didn’t hesitate. Not to mention the weapons you had in your house.”

The spray of water stopped and she tossed the nozzle to the side, casting only a glance at Dean as she shut off the water and moved to return inside.

“I had an unusual upbringing, so my world approach is a little different.”

Inside, Sam went into the bathroom to inspect and clean the cut at his temple using an LED lantern Savvy retrieved from her closet. She placed another on the table as Cas took a seat and watched Dean pace, brows furrowed. Savvy sat on the floor by the white cabinets, murmuring softly to Harley as she checked the dog over for injuries, gentle hands and fingers running carefully through fur, the complete opposite of how she’d been moments earlier when faced with an enemy.

Dean shook the thought away, tearing his gaze from her. Sam came out to watch him, a wash cloth pressed to his head. His elder brother pointed to the angel at the table.

“What the hell is up with everyone thinking that the world currently being in danger is our fault? First demons are claiming Sam is their new Messiah, then hunters think we are the poster boys for Hell, and now because we’ve somehow been dragged in the middle of this huge mess that apparently  _no one_  knows anything about,  _we’re_  responsible?”

Wearily, Castiel shook his head, hands raised. “I have nothing to offer you, Dean. I know exactly what you do. Fear is taking hold of demons now. They are the ones most affected by what is going on, so much that their monarch is ordering genocide of his own kind to keep the infection from spreading. They are panicking and lashing out, much as the angels panicked and fled.”

Moving over to take a seat, Sam checked the bloody material at his temple and replaced it as it continued to bleed. “While crazy, their logic was sound, though incorrect. We are, thus far, unaffected. Hell, with everything that is going wrong, the fact that we were sent to a relatively safe place for an indeterminate amount of time- we’d suspect us of being involved were the situation reversed, Dean.”

“Yeah, but why  _us_?” his brother demanded.

Gaze meeting his, Sam shook his head. “We seem to be in the eye of the storm. Why not us?” He shrugged. “When the world was in danger before, we were in the middle of it because Heaven and Hell dragged us there. Now they’re facing a threat they can’t hope to contend with and we’re still right there in the middle of it. Who would have better reason than us to cause the chaos the next go round, exacting revenge on both Heaven and Hell?”

“We don’t have the means to pull off something that major,” Dean argued.

“Given the fact that you personally kicked Divine Plan in the butt and walked away,” Savvy interjected, causing all of them to look at her; she arched a brow, “I’m guessing they figure you’d find a way.” She waved airily toward the backdoor, before she began plucking at her black jelly bracelets with canary yellow nails. Her white hair shone bright in the artificial light and shadow. “I mean, Dean, they’re so terrified they killed themselves to follow you here and attempt to stop you.  _Demons_ , not angels. Demons basically just tried to save the world from the  _Winchesters_.” She shook her head with a snort and returned to petting the dog at her side.

“But we aren’t a threat to the world!” exclaimed the blond hunter angrily. “We want to save it! Again!”

Gesturing to the books, Sam said, “Well, I guess Balthazar was right then. He said we’d be unable to do anything useful while here.”

“Then we need to find whatever it is we were sent here to retrieve,” his brother insisted firmly. “That has to be the real reason we were sent here. There’s something here the angels think will help.”

The brunette spread his hands. “Like what, Dean? We have no leads. No clue what it could even be! He said we’d know it when we saw it, so my guess is that it comes across our path on its own.” He scoffed and shook his head. “We’d be looking for a needle in a haystack of needles.” Faltering, his gaze shifted to Savvy. She stared back at him, brows raised in question. “Wait. You said God spoke to you through a prophet.” Dean and Cas both regarded her sharply then. “Do you think we could talk to the prophet? Or maybe a different prophet?”

She stared at him in disbelief, corners of her mouth wilting down into a frown as one brow swept upward. “I’m pretty sure all you’re gonna get is a ‘have faith, sayeth the Lord your God,’ if you try that route.” She shook her head. “Clearly, you are on a need-to-know basis, guys. Those  _in_  the know don’t think  _you_  need to know yet. Everything worked out fine last time you saved the world, right?”

“If by ‘fine’ you mean my brother jumped into the mouth of hell-“ Dean growled.

She met his gaze, unflinching. “And was promptly spat back out unharmed, Cas was revived, Bobby’s out of his soul contract with Crowley, and enemies of the past are now willing allies. Funny how that worked out.” Her expression softened. “At the risk of sounding condescending toward all humans, myself included, I figure the equivalent of mine and God’s relationship is like mine and Harley’s. She can’t understand my thinking, but she will get the point in the end. My thoughts are above your thoughts, and all that,” she said, quoting from the Bible.

He raised a challenging brow. “You’re comparing us to dogs?”

“No,” she replied. “If I were to give an accurate summation, the angels are animals in comparison to God, and then we are animals in comparison to angels. We, in turn, are tasked with looking after and caring for animals and this planet just as angels were tasked with looking after us, and God looks after them and everything else. I’m saying that as important as we all think we are, this planet and all the lives and history it carries, it is just a speck of dust when viewed from deep space, distinguishable only by the fact it’s brighter than all the other specks of dust. Just because you  _don’t_  understand, doesn’t mean you  _won’t_.”

“Yeah, well, angels have kinda failed to do their job,” he groused.

She raised a brow as he turned away from her. “Watch the news, Dean. So have we.”

 

            Unable to stand being trapped in Savvy’s apartment another minute, Dean grabbed Cas and her car keys and left. The girl in question glared and set her teeth, but said nothing, just handed him a ball cap and Cas the fake glasses as they passed her. Cas remained silent in the car, even as Dean angrily snatched her iPod out and tossed it carelessly to the backseat as they drove.

Cas’ silent presence beside him was soothing, as though the calm the angel portrayed were washing over Dean.

The hunter shot him a look. “How are you doing that?” he demanded. The other man blinked at him. “The sensory relay, whatever. You want me to calm down, I’m calming down. Cut it out, I want to be good and pissed off right now. You did it before with the demon: when you were in trouble, I knew, and again the day the angels came for you. I heard you say my name, like you were right there, even though you were all the way out in the yard.” He snorted and focused his eyes on the road, fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel. “Hell, you may have done it that day I had a break down in the yard after we found out about Purgatory. I couldn’t  _be_  upset with you there.”

The angel frowned, brows drawn together as he considered this, then a shadow of a smile curled his lips as he returned his gaze to the dark night outside and traffic.

“We’re soul-bonded, Dean. Connected. I want to help, and you feel the effects.” They side-eyed each other. “You also do it without realizing.” Dean blinked with a start. “The ghost girl. I… felt you urge me to look up, the same as though you put a warning hand on my shoulder and told me to.”

Cas shook his head. “I did not realize it at the time, brushed it off as something else must have alerted me, the feel of her eyes,  _something_. I did the same for all the times you have calmed my own inner turmoil- that it was just you and the effect you have on me, but if you feel it as well, it is also our souls communicating. Yours assures me that you will always be there. Mine assures you we’ll figure this out and make it through.”

There was a long silence in the car as Dean navigated the vehicle down a service road and to a billiard hall with a bright neon sign.

As he parked, he asked, “So, our souls… like, reassure the other one about the thing we’re most afraid of? Or just afraid of?”

After a moment’s consideration, Castiel inclined his head. Dean nodded and they got out of the car, the hunter rounding it quickly, pressing a hand into Cas’ chest and pushing him back against the vehicle, his other hand pointing as he glared, voice hoarse as he spoke.

“I would die for you,” he growled into the angel’s surprised face. “A thousand times over, I would die, so don’t for a second ever think I would just _leave_ , turn my back and walk away.”

His friend’s eyes softened. “Dean…”

“If it came to picking between you and Sam, I will  _always_  pick Sam, but that doesn’t mean I could survive losing you. Sam’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean I…” He swallowed and continued, lowly, “It doesn’t mean I value you any less.”

He pushed away from the angel, desperately needing space and swallowing thickly again. Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, he said, “C’mon. I’ll teach you how to play pool. We can win some money to give to Savvy for keeping us fed like she has.”

Fighting back a smile, Cas inclined his head and followed after, allowing himself a stolen glance and fond expression once they were inside and the hunter’s back was turned.

They played several games uninterrupted; Dean showed Cas how to play and gauge position, distance, and force. He corrected his hold on the cue, then stood back and watched assessingly, giving tips and suggestions as the angel rounded the table, narrowed gaze focused on the different balls on the green felt. It made Dean think of two enemies circling each other, and was enough to force a chuckle out of him.

It was while he was watching Cas, the other man dressed in a grey v-neck shirt and dark jeans, those rather endearing glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, that Dean suddenly realized it: he was in love with Cas. Which okay, he’d known, but he’d never just had the thought cross his mind, had never been giving the other man correction on strategy at pool, only to have the thought, steeped in fondness, cross through his mind. He’d never had the words  _‘God, I love that man’_  casually cross his mind like it were any other observation.

Hitting the colored orbs in the way instructed, Castiel lifted his gaze to Dean’s for critique, brows raised in question. The hunter smiled and clapped him on the shoulder as the last ball rolled into the intended pocket.

“Good job.” He grinned. “Now we play against each other for real, afterward, you watch the master at work.”

 

 

They crept back into Savannah’s apartment in the wee hours of the morning. There was a note from Sam taped to the door _. ‘No power, no A/C. Prepare for a warm night.’_  Inside, they faltered as they came up against a growling black form in the darkness, animal eyes reflecting the little bit of light filtering in through the kitchen window. Dean went cold from head to toe, still as a statue.

Behind him, Cas leaned forward, half pressing against Dean, and whispered, “Harley. It’s us. Go to bed.”

The threatening sounds subsided, followed by a snuff and the click-clack of her nails on the hardwood floors. Dean sighed in relief.

Exhausted, the two of them got ready for sleep as quickly and quietly as possible, stripping down to boxers before crawling into bed. On the couch, Sam had a spiral bound book open across his t-shirt and was snoring softly.

Dean felt peaceful as he drifted to sleep, despite everything that had happened the past few days and the fact that they still had no answers. Maybe it was the soul-bond with Cas, the other man believed everything would turn out alright, and apparently that was enough to quell the fear in Dean. Maybe it was the point Savvy had made earlier, that at the time had only infuriated him, but he’d later seen that her argument was valid. Maybe, even without answers, Dean was beginning to believe they could tackle another apocalypse, so long as they all did it together.

He slipped peacefully in slumber and dreamt of their drive to the billiard, of their conversation and of Dean rounding the car on the other man, hand shoving him back against the car to say his peace. In the dream, though, rather than pushing away from Cas, Dean leaned in and kissed him instead, one hand sliding into dark hair as the other came to rest at his hip, mindful of the bandage and tattoo hidden beneath his clothes. Castiel’s hands came up to lightly rest at Dean’s sides, the two of them kissing languidly in the parking lot, completely oblivious to the other people coming and going around them. They kissed and smiled against each other’s lips, before kissing each other again like no one was watching.

The smile on his sleeping face went unseen in the darkness throughout the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and comments welcome, especially if you've read The Path We Choose. New face on an old skeleton, right?


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 

            “Can we not just go to the library,” began Dean furiously, grunting in pain as the demon’s fist clipped his jaw. He swung back, knocking the black-eyed man off his feet, “Without running into trouble?”

            He spat blood on the pavement.

            Savvy roundhouse kicked the demon that had targeted her. “You’re  _Winchesters_ ,” she snapped back at him, following with a left hook, “What do  _you_  think?”

            The unorthodox childhood Savvy had only briefly hinted at was serving her well now, the skills she’d been taught, others she’d been forced to learn, making her valuable rather than a liability or distraction.

            These demons weren’t even capable of speech at all, just growling and snarling like feral animals, jumping back in the fray as soon as they were knocked out of it, absolutely no concern for their own well-being. It scarily reminded Dean of going to a future overruns with Croats.

            “I thought the point of sending us here was so we could lay low,” demanded Cas, dodging a punch and following with a right-cross.

            “Yeah,” agreed Sam, swinging his interlaced hands and snapping a demon’s head so hard to the side she crumpled boneless to the ground, melting into a puddle of black tar almost immediately. “How are they  _finding_  us?”

            One of the demons lunged directly at Savvy. She fell into the attack, holding the man by his jacket as she rolled backward, getting her feet up and then kicking him over her head with a grunt, rolling so that she landed on her feet. The demon’s skull met the curbside with a sickening crack and his body went slack, then liquefied.

            “At least we don’t have to worry about hiding bodies,” she panted, hands planted on her knees as Dean and Cas finished off the last denizen of hell. Cas took the demon’s head between his hands and twisted sharply. It collapsed and turned to ooze.

            The older Winchester scoffed. “No, just the possibility of getting arrested after we gank a bunch of people in the _library_   _parking lot_!”

            Tucking her white hair behind her ear, Savvy folded her arms over her novelty tee, hip jutting to one side. The front of her jeans were fashionably ripped and frayed all down the front. “No one can even see us back here.” She flapped a hand at the collection of massive southern oaks.

            He snorted, turning to inspect Cas and his brother over for injuries. “Never thought I’d be so thankful for a bunch of lousy trees.” The former angel was wincing, weight balanced more on one foot than the other. “You okay?” he questioned lowly, one hand coming up to Cas’ elbow as his eyes searched the angel’s face.

            The other man nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, Dean.” He glanced at the others. “Sam? Savvy?”

            They both nodded. Dean bobbed his head, glancing cautiously over his shoulder at the rest of the parking lot.

            “Let’s get out of here before we run into more demons trying to save the world from us.”

            They all got into Savvy’s Honda Civic the color of autumn, Sam up front while Dean and Cas were in the backseat. Green eyes noted the way Castiel rubbed gingerly at where his new tattoo was hidden beneath his clothing, grimacing slightly as he did.

            “Well, where to now?” asked Savvy, gaze flicking to them in the rearview mirror and jerking Dean’s attention away from the man beside him. With a sigh, Cas laid his head back and allowed his eyes to slip shut. “The power is probably still out at the house.”

            They’d escaped her apartment and gone to the library under the guise of doing research, but more for relief from the stifling heat indoors than anything. By ten o’clock that morning it had already been nearly a hundred degrees outside, the air thick with humidity, making it cling to you. The humidity and heat in the apartment had awoken them all early, the majority of them sleeping restlessly all night until the miserable heat forced them awake, covered in sweat.

            Rubbing his jaw, Dean cast his gaze out the window, watching as downtown passed by. “Let’s grab something to eat first, then try our luck at the main library.”

            Nodding, Savvy drove, a tired silence falling in the car. In the front seat, Sam was flipping through one of the books they’d gotten at the library-and had subsequently been forced to use as a weapon once they’d gotten to the parking lot. Beside him, Cas shifted in his seat, pulled out the iPod Savvy had loaned him, and placed the ear buds in as he let his forehead fall against the window, his eyes sliding closed.

            With every occupant of the car distracted in his or her own way, Dean was left free to study the man beside him listening to some audiobook of Savvy’s. There had been a screaming child at the library during their research, making Castiel visibly flinch every time its wails started anew after another deep indrawn breath. The angel had apparently not slept as well as Dean, and his tolerate nature was uncharacteristically frail.

            Dean was learning quickly that Savvy was usually well prepared for every occasion. She’d handed over her iPod to Castiel without hesitation, along with a spare set of headphones. After a brief instruction, Savvy plugged her headphones into her laptop and continued to block out the child that way. For a few minutes, Castiel continued to toy with the contraption, before he returned to flipping through a book on Catholicism. Dean only knew he was listening to an audiobook or podcast rather than music because of the one time Sam had interrupted him, and the angel had removed an ear bud to hear and answer him. Rather than music filtering through the tiny speaker, it had been the sound of a woman speaking.

            It seemed appropriate the angel would choose book narration over music, even if the whole point of the device was the block out the screams of a toddler.

            While Cas had been distracted from sleep deprivation, Dean had found himself distracted by Cas. He was presented with a curious problem now that he neither knew how to handle or approach, never having found himself in such a position.

            There was a war coming, one none of them were likely to actually survive- and was completely inevitable, he’d already come to terms with that.

            Dean was in love with Cas, and they were facing down yet another Armageddon, and before this one came calling Castiel deserved to know just how much he was loved. Which was the problem. The very small by comparison problem, but it was a problem Dean could focus on and deal with realistically.

            They were friends. Had started out the most  _unlikely_  of friends, sure, what with the guy who didn’t believe in angels or God, and then the angel who knew nothing about humans or exercising free will. They’d become tentative allies, brothers in arms, and then finally best friends and family.

            It wasn’t like Dean could just come out and say ‘Hey, I love you’. Though, if he did, Cas might reply back that he loved Dean, too, meaning it a completely platonic manner, and then ask if Dean was alright and how hard he’d recently hit his head.

            That didn’t seem like the best approach. He just wanted Castiel to know; he wasn’t expecting the feeling returned. Well, he hoped, but Cas was- or had been- an angel. He had no idea if angels could even experience romantic love, or was it all strictly platonic? The hunter didn’t want to damage their relationship by revealing something Cas wasn’t even equipped to handle. Then again, there was that impromptu kiss they had shared. Which they still hadn’t talked about, and Dean was actually kind of grateful for.

            He glanced toward where his brother was reading in the front seat. As often as they all faced death, and kept being given second chances, Dean didn’t know why they kept letting things go unsaid, or why they had let things go unsaid for so long. He and Sam made a point of talking to each other-granted, only when they had to- but they talked and were honest, even about the things they didn’t want the other one to know, really.

            Green eyes slid back over to the man sharing the backseat with him, apparently lulled to sleep by the motion of the car and the voice in his ears.

            While he still had the opportunity, Dean wanted to grab at it. Wanted Cas to know, if only so the angel would stop selling himself short, would realize how amazing he was, and stop apparently waiting for those he cared about to eventually just leave him in the end, for his family to continue to abandon him. If something came from Dean’s reveal, even better, but in a way, he wanted it out in the open more for Castiel’s sake than his own.

            Which brought him back around to trying to figure out how to tell the other man. Or how to tell  _Sam_ , now that he thought about it. Maybe Sam could help him come up with a strategy. His younger brother was a lot better at all this emotional crap than Dean was.

            Savvy took them to a Chinese restaurant called The Pearl, and Dean gently shook Cas’ shoulder, causing the angel to blink in surprise and muddled confusion a moment, before he nodded and got out of the car, replacing the iPod as he did.

            Their lunch was eaten in exhausted silence, all four of them hunched over the plates of noodles, the gestures of food to mouth almost robotic in its automatry.

            Beneath the table, Cas gave Dean’s foot a significant nudge, causing the hunter to look at him across the table. The dark haired man inclined his head toward his meal and the noodles on his fork.

            “Add this to the list of food I like.”

            Beside him, Sam smiled into his drink and Dean chuckled, nodding obediently. “Duly noted. Cas likes burgers, Chinese noodles, and his coffee like he likes his women: blonde and sweet.”

            Their eyes met across the table, a little frown appearing in the angel’s brow. “The gender on the outside holds no relevance for me, Dean. I have no preference one way or the other.” His head angled slightly as Dean had to swallow hard. “Your gender analogy is inaccurate, though that is how I like my coffee.”

            It was an opening, an opportunity. Their gazes held, and it would be so easy for Dean to cross that bridge, to say something like ‘Well that’s a relief’ or ‘Glad to hear it’, while offering the other man a flirtatious smile, or giving his leg a pointed nudge under the table. Castiel had unknowingly given Dean the opportunity he needed…

            The hunter was acutely aware of the other two people sitting at the table with them, though neither spoke or even seemed to be moving. Coughing lightly, Dean tore his gaze away for Cas’, the moment shattered.

            “I’ll, uh, add that tidbit to the list of Castiel Facts as well, then,” he said.

            Blue eyes lingered for another moment, then Cas returned his attention back to his own plate and they resumed eating in silence.

Dean was distracted from eating by the aura of disapproval and irritation coming for beside him. He looked up questioningly to find Sam giving him one of his exasperated bitchfaces. It was Bitchface #5, actually, the one that said ‘I cannot believe you could be so stupid, how are we related, Dean you’re an idiot’. The elder Winchester straightened with a frown, not understanding his brother’s expression.

“What?” he asked.

Cas looked up inquiringly as Sam released a snort and shook his head in disgust. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Brows drawn together, Dean looked at Savvy, wondering if he’d missed something. She stared at him with an arched brow, finger tapping irregularly against the table top.

Then she sighed and shook her head, returning to her food. “I’m too tired to care.”

 

The main branch of the library offered them no more help than the other one had, Savvy grumbling at what a fail the libraries in the area were anyway, of her desire to move further north “Where the snow lives, y’know? And there’s less bigotry and racism. People are both good as gold and  _hateful_  down here. And the libraries are terrible. I want to move somewhere with a Half Price bookstore.”

She had interesting priorities.

As the day wore on, they all grew increasingly more agitated with exhaustion, hardly speaking to each other, and reduced to single word answers or grunts when they did. Savvy kept glaring, swearing like a sailor under her breath every time something happened to her displeasure, until she’d finally declared “ _Fuck this_. I am  _tired_  and I hate everybody on the fucking planet right now. Can we  _please_  go home or I swear to  _God_ , I will find an empty hallway and go to sleep in the corner.”

Cas and Sam both fell asleep in the car.

By the time they made it back to her apartment, the power was already on and the home was blessedly cool again. Everyone unanimously decided on a nap almost as soon as they met the inviting interior temperature. Savvy shuffled into her room and crawled into bed, Harley immediately curling up beside her, and one of her arms wrapped around the dog. In the living room, Sam practically faceplanted on the sofa and seemed to be asleep almost immediately. Dean and Cas did the same, falling onto the air mattress together with sighs of contentment, as weariness made them pliant and relax into the bed. Beside him, Cas was already asleep when Dean pulled the blankets over them, before a few breaths later he was a sleep as well.

Several hours of blissful sleep passed, and Dean awoke first, curled against Cas’ back, with an arm around the angel’s waist. It was perfect and comfortable, and Dean wanted to nuzzle closer and drift back off to sleep. It would be easy. In the weeks that had been sharing a bed, it was surprising they hadn’t woken up curled together before, or had any other embarrassing incidents upon waking.

They’d had to wake each other from their own nightmares on several occasions, or they’d woken the other one up when jerked violently awake by a nightmare, but it was a small mercy nothing embarrassing had happened between them yet.

Dean sighed, biting back a chuckle when the warm breath across Cas’ neck enticed a low hum from the other man. Lowering his head, the hunter brushed his mouth over Cas’ shoulder before rolling away from him and onto his back, staring at the ceiling and contemplating the merits of getting up.

There weren’t any. No one else was awake, the books that they had gotten were more to say they had made an effort, but they all already knew there was nothing helpful to be found in any of them. They were left to wait. Wait for Balthazar to retrieve them, for the Holy Grail from this world to find them so they could take it back, or wait for the worlds to implode in on themselves.

He snorted, giving a little shake of his head. He’d told Lisa he wouldn’t get in another mess where the world was on the line, that he was just looking for one missing person. One missing person case that had led him here. Maybe it was a sign, but he wasn’t sure what it meant, whether telling him to get out of the life, or that right in the middle of it was where he was supposed to be.

Cas stretched in his sleep, groaning, before rolling over and seeking out Dean’s lost heat. The hunter stilled, gaze focused on the ceiling as Cas’ head settled against the his shoulder, an arm draping across Dean’s waist. Then, Cas sighed and sagged back into a deeper sleep.

Technically, these were better circumstances than when Dean woke up. At least it wasn’t him, what with his apparent massive crush that could be seen from space that was latched onto Castiel. It had been bound to happen eventually, right? And it wasn’t like they had any issues with personal space anymore at this point anyway, what with the constant body contact at the start of this soul-anchor mess, then having to share a bedroom and bathroom since. It was no big deal. None.

He smiled fondly against the top of the other man’s head a moment, thumb stroking over the fabric of his shirt. Smile vanishing, Dean rolled his head to regard the ceiling again.

They were in another battle to save the world, and God help him, Dean didn’t want to be. He just wanted to do his job. To save lives from regular monsters and things that went bump in the night. One life at a time, not all six billion at once.

In the event that they did survive this, though God help him, Dean had no idea how they could, given what they were facing, but in the very _off chance_ that they did… he needed to figure out a way to do his job and stay out of the fire fight as well. The demons were right. Shit hit the fan and there was Team Free Will, right in the middle of it, like before.

A tired and frustrated sigh escaped him. Beside him-against him, really- Castiel stiffened. Dean looked down. The other man’s eyes were open and blinking, brows drawn together.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said softly. “Did I wake you?”

Blue eyes jerked up to his face, eyes widening in alarm as he drew back the arm that had been curled around Dean’s torso, pushing himself back.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ His eyes didn’t know where to look, and cast away at no spot in particular. “I apologize.”

Huffing a laugh, Dean stretched, the arm that had been curled around the angel purposefully bumping against him, before Dean went slack against the bed regarding his friend. “Nothing to apologize for, Cas.” The other man was pushed up onto one arm, peering down at him, studying him as he spoke. Dean cocked a brow. “Feel better?”

Chuckling, Cas glanced at where Sam was still fast asleep, an arm thrown across his face. He settled back down on his side of the bed, he and Dean turning on their sides to speak in low tones so as to not wake him.

“Yes.” He glanced down in embarrassment, then back at Dean. “I was… unreasonably cross earlier. It was uncharacteristic.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You were tired. Everybody gets cranky. Like that kid from earlier.”

Snorting softly, it was Cas’ turn to roll his eyes. “Again, you compare me to a squalling toddler.” His eyes were playful as they met Dean’s. “Do you think so little of me?”

“Cas, I can honestly say, you are the person I am most honored to have met and call family.”

They shared a smile.

“Were you not tired as well?” Cas questioned.

“I woke up a few minutes ago. Was just thinking.”

“About?”

Dean told him, the angel studying his features as he explained, nodding along in understanding.

“Dean, it’s completely reasonable what you are feeling. You shouldn’t feel guilty.” He shook his head as best he could from his position on his side. “We’ll figure something out.”

A sardonic smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “If we live through this?”

“ _When_  we live through this.” Blue eyes found his. “Do you have an idea what you want after all of this?”

“I want Sam to be able to go back to school if he still wants,” he said immediately. “I want him to have the normal life he always wanted, whether with Sarah or someone else. I give him a hard time about her, but I really just want him to have what he’s wanted since he was a brat, you know? And she accepts him as is.”

“What do  _you_  want to do, though, Dean?”

The blond frowned, mulling over the question. “I don’t know, man. I can’t walk away. I know I can’t walk away. Lisa was right. I can’t be happy knowing there are things out there hunting innocent people and I’m not doing something about it, but the way we’ve been doing things won’t work anymore.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be living a nomad life when I’m sixty; living out of cheap motels and hunting monsters. We save the world again, I kinda think I’ve earned a spot on the sidelines. Maybe, do something like Bobby: I’m the one people call for information and advice. Or, I could do something kinda like Ellen with the bar, and it doubles as an information spot like Bobby’s? I dunno. Part of me wishes we could start some kind of institution, underground or whatever, train more people, create better hunters, make certain more of us live to even see sixty. There are too few hunters, too spread out, and none of us talk to each other. We’re gonna die off like that, and then what? Who protects the people?”

He faltered at the look Cas was giving him, the fond amusement coloring the other man’s expression. “What?”

“I asked what you wanted, and your wants all still focus around protecting and caring for others,” pointed out the angel. “You are selfless.”

He smiled as Dean blinked with a start. The elder Winchester didn’t see it that way. He thought he was being rather  _selfish_  wanting to get out of the traditional version of a hunter life, wanting to be on the sidelines where it was safer and he was less likely to get caught up in anymore cosmic wars.

“What do you want?” he asked, rather than respond. “You’re human now. Once all this crazy settles down and it’s safe for you to be more than five feet away from me for more than five minutes again… any plans? Tour the world? Take up golf?” The last part he asked grinning, coaxing a soft snort of laughter from the other man. “Or did you want to figure out some way to strong arm that Naomi bitch into giving you your grace back? Say the word and me, Sam, and Bobby have got your back. We’ll totally kick her ass, Cas.”

A fond smile that Dean thought seemed a bit sad colored his friend’s expression. He didn’t pull away when Cas reached out with one hand to cup the back of Dean’s neck, thumb resting lightly against this jaw.

“Dean,” he said lowly. “You grieve for my lost grace more than I do. I would not take it back even if it were offered to me.”

“But… but why?” questioned Dean, unable to comprehend the other man’s choice. Why would he choose to be weak, breakable, mortal when he could be…

“Because I was untouchable before,” Cas told him and Dean’s frown of confusion deepened. “I  _felt_ , Dean, but there was…” His eyes searched for the word. “Frosted bullet-proof glass separating me from emotions and feelings, they were there and I was aware of them, but did not fully grasp them or experience them, what they were, what some even meant. Nothing was fully able to get to me. I was cut off and separated. I’m human now and my feelings are fully available to me. It’s like,” The hand on Dean’s neck came away to make an vague gesture, “It’s like a blurred world suddenly snapping into focus, o-or a breath of clean, fresh air after being choked of it.” His hand fell back to the mattress between them. “I wanted to stay on Earth, to stay with you- and with Sam and Bobby. Now all of me  _is_.” He shook his head. “Nothing can make me regret that.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “As far as what I want to do? I think I’ll stick by you.” A shadow of a smirk. “A world trip might be fun to experience as a human, but if I do, you and I ought to go together.”

“Me?”

The other man laughed. “Think about it, Dean: as much time as you spend on the road, as much as you travel, yet you’ve never actually  _been anywhere_. You haven’t even seen the wonders of your own country, much less those around the world. Going alone would be lonely. Journeys are meant to be shared, so we might as well go together. Sam would probably like a break from road tripping.”

Snorting a laugh, Dean nodded slightly, shrugging one shoulder. “Sam would probably do anything to never have to road trip with me again.”

Sobering, Cas’ gaze played over Dean’s face. “What else is bothering you? You keep watching Savvy when she’s preoccupied with something else.”

Dean arched a brow. “I’m not into her if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Another snort of laughter. “The scowl and serious way you seem to study her would suggest something other than romantic interest.” A pause. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust her?”

“We wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t,” the hunter stated, then hesitated, trying to find words to describe the unease that nagged him. “It’s just… I dunno. I don’t understand, I guess. On all accounts, she’s just a woman. Works from home, mid-twenties, dog owner, introvert or whatever. She’s capable, prepared, acts well in a crisis, and isn’t pawing at any of us like Becky would, which is a nice change.”

“But?”

Their gazes met. “Her entire demeanor changes in a fight. Savvy is nice, easy to get along with, slowly starting to be herself more and more around us rather than being so guarded. She took us in when we needed her, knowing the threat our presence alone offered, I mean, she smiles and waves to little kids at the library.” He shook his head. “But then that first night with the demons? She didn’t hesitate to use brutal force. Went for the knees, then the shoulder and collar bone with a softball bat. Didn’t bat an eye. Then she sprayed away the evidence with that same, like, hard expression, that between one blink and the next can be there and gone.”

“She’s familiar with what we were dealing with, or demons, at least. She knows from witnessing your lives not to hold back,” Cas pointed out.

Dean shook his head. “No, it isn’t that. She’s… she’s like a soldier or something. She’s prepared for everything: weapons throughout the house, lights, medical supplies, even today at the library and the screaming kid. Her entire demeanor and the way she holds herself changes when she’s threatened. She doesn’t get scared and try to get away like a normal person. Her face goes hard, eyes cold, and she prepares to take the threat head-on, like…”

“Like a hunter?”

“Like she’s use to fighting  _battles_ ,” he clarified. “Not the occasional fist fight or whatever. She goes into a sort of soldier-mode or something. She holds her bat like a sword.”

“She is ordained to take up banner and sword for others,” Cas reminded him. “That would suggest her entire existence is meant to be a battle field, quite literally, from what I’ve seen.”

Sighing, Dean shook his head. “I just don’t like the way the flip switches so easily for her, especially not really knowing her. I don’t like how cold her expression goes. What the hell does that to a person?”

“You have to ask, Dean? You, of all people?” wondered Castiel. “It comes from having seen too much, having been through too much. She has _adapted_.” Sighing, he rolled over and got out of the bed. “If you’ll excuse me.” He shuffled off into the bathroom, which was close enough they could be that far away.

Dean stayed in bed, still not wanting to get up. He was tired in a way different from needing sleep. He wanted to watch a movie and not have to go out or get out of bed. On the couch behind him, Sam moved, the old red couch creaking slightly under his weight. Twisting, Dean turned to see his younger sibling propped up on one arm and giving him a pointed and impatient look.

“Dean, would you  _please_  just ask Cas to marry you already?” Dean blinked, brows drawing together in confusion.

“How long have you been awake?”

Sam pointed at him. “You’re deflecting. Tell him you’re in love with him already.”

Rolling over so he could fully face his brother, Dean looked up at him. “You know?”

“ _Every_ body but the two of you knows, Dean!” the brunette hissed in irritation. “Just make out already, though, please _, for the love of God_ , not where I can see. My teeth would immediately rot. Just stop all this ridiculous pining for each other.”

The blond’s expression closed off and he eyed his brother suspiciously. “You’re saying you think he feels the same?”

Sighing explosively, Sam raked a hand through his hair. “Dean. He just asked you to go on a world trip with him. The two of you. He doesn’t want to be an angel anymore so he can have his feelings without a Kevlar filter. Wanted to stay on Earth  _with you_ , Bobby and I were an addendum to the statement. Seriously, how can you have any  _doubt_  he loves you?” He shook his head in disbelief. “How can you not see how  _much_  he loves you, Dean? He wants a life with you, would take it even if he thought he could only have it by remaining strictly friends, just so long as he can stay by your side. He’s given up Heaven now  _twice_  for you, Dean. As far as romantic gestures go? That’s  _kind_  of a big one.” Warm eyes locked on his, pained and beseeching. “How are you so insecure in your worth that you can’t even see when someone loves you?”

A moment later, Cas came out of the bathroom, stopping when he saw Sam was awake. Dean looked at Cas in the doorway and raised a brow.

“Well, I don’t plan on doing anything the rest of the day unless I have to. You guys wanna watch a movie?”

 

The next morning, the real reason they’d been sent to the alternate world was made clear to them. They didn’t so much  _find_  the thing they’d been sent to retrieve, as it found  _them_. More precisely,  _he_  found them.

Amidst the four of them shuffling around Savvy’s small kitchen handing out coffee and tea and scrambled egg sandwiches, they heard the argument outside. One of the voices was Phillip’s, the old man that lived next door and spent the majority of the day in a chair on the back porch.

“I told you yesterday to go away!” he said. “Leave her alone! She’s a nice girl!”

They all looked at each other in confusion.

“Look, old man, I am not here to cause problems, but I need to speak to her, and she wasn’t home yesterday,” the other voice argued back, the sound familiar. “She can help me.”

Savvy had already opened her back door and was peering through the screen door, blinking with a start. “ _Gabriel_?!”

The three men in the apartment suddenly crowded in the door way and by the kitchen window in order to see out into the parking area. Phillip stood on his half of the shared porch, wielding a spatula like a weapon and looking as crazy as ever. On the sidewalk leading up to the apartments, looking hopefully at Savvy… was Gabriel.

“Gabriel!” the men all said in surprise, causing the archangel’s face to break out into a wide grin.

“Boys!”

“I-I told him,” insisted Phillip, stammering and shaking his spatula, “I  _told_  him not to bother you. Was hanging ‘round all yesterday while you were gone, watching the place, b-but I run him off.”

Savvy slipped out onto the porch, just as Gabriel hurried inside. She smiled at the old man. “It’s fine, Phillip. He’s a friend. Thank you very much for guarding my apartment.”

“I told him-“

She nodded. “And he came back at another time when I was home so he could see us. Thank you for that. I appreciate it.”

“-strange men coming out of the woodwork,” he fussed, glaring over her shoulder toward the apartment, then snorted and glowered at her. “Miss Savvy, what have you got yourself mixed up in? You better not be running an irreputable business out of your home. Last girl who tried that… they cut her lease and kicked her out.”

Dean choked on a laugh at the thought of Savvy dealing in anything shady.

Her smiled remained placating. “I told you, remember, Phillip? They’re family that came to visit for a few days. Gabriel is leaving with them when they go, so they met up here.”

Another few minutes and she came back inside to watch as Gabriel walked in a circle around his brother, looking him up and down with a surprisingly dark expression.

“Who did this to you?” he growled.

The younger angel shook his head. “It’s a  _long_  story, brother.” He and Dean met gazes, Gabriel watching the movement with sharp eyes, narrowed dangerously.

“How’d you find us?” asked Sam, shaking his head as his eyes raked over the archangel. “And how are you  _here_?”

Sighing, Gabriel waved a hand. “Equally long story, kiddo. Not my idea.” His amber eyes flicked to each other them, and Dean wondered how he could suddenly look so ancient. “I’m just glad you’re here to take me back.”

Folding his arms, Dean leaned against the door frame leading to Savvy’s room, while the girl in question was standing back in the kitchen, arms folded and eyes taking in every detail of what was happening around her, much like she had when the Winchesters had all first arrived. Harley was seated directly by her side, eyes following the newcomer’s every move.

“Actually,” Dean sighed, making the angel look at him, “we were sent here to keep us unavailable to Michael and Lucifer since your dad has deemed it a good idea to let them out of the Cage, even while the wall to Purgatory is about to blow and we’re scrambling trying to find a way to stop it.”

Gabriel’s mouth curled upward in a mischievous smirk. “Is that what they told you?”

Dean frowned. “Uh, yeah. Balthazar said he and the others were a little apprehensive and as a precaution they were sending us here.”

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Gabriel gave him a tired smile. “Oh kid. They played you the fool.” He shook his head. “You’re here so I can go home. The angels can’t come get me, and I can’t go home on my own power. I’m cut off here and a little weaker every day, which is why it took a couple of days to find you. Angels can open the portal, but not from this side. They sent you through knowing I would sense it and come searching. You were, like, a flare to get my attention, nothing more. Balthazar will have to reopen the window from his side if we’re to make it back home.”

Scoffing, Sam held up a hand. “We were  _angel bait_?”

Their eyes met and the weary expression on the blond man’s face fizzled out any anger that had been building up in the taller of the two. “What lengths would you go to save your brother from dying a slow death?” Another sigh, before his gaze traveled to the silent spectator in her own home.

Gabriel’s posture changed as he turned to fully regard her. Stiffening under his amber gaze, Savvy straightened to full height, her arms falling to her sides, and chin lifting in challenge. Other people in the room forgotten, the archangel stepped forward, gaze studying her like Cas use to do to Dean, like he were looking beneath skin and bone, to something deeper only he could see as an angel. The angel’s focus strayed to her right hand, studying it for a moment before his eyes trailed back up to her face.

“You carry the sword,” he said softly. Her whole expression tightened, and Dean watched as she suddenly had to swallow, her eyes bright. Gabriel stepped close to her, taking her face in hands and forcing her to look at him, and Dean would have sworn she suddenly had tears in her eyes. “ _I’m_   _sorry_ for the weight that has put on your shoulders, for the things your calling has put you through,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “You have what it takes to always get back up.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Savvy’s hands trembled by her sides as she balled them into fists, tears spilling down her cheeks. Without a word, Gabriel brushed them away with his thumb, offering her a smile when she forced her eyes back open a moment later. Her smile was wobbly when she returned his.

Dean and Sam shared a confused look, brows drawn together as they silently gestured back and forth until Sam just shrugged and held up his hands. They looked at Cas who was smiling fondly, apparently understanding a lot better than they were what was going on.

Turning back to the others, Gabriel put his hands on his hips as his gaze travelled over them. “Okay. We don’t have much time now that I’m here. Fill me in on what’s going on.”

They did, the four of them sitting around the living room and catching Gabriel up to speed on what was going on. Meanwhile, Savvy was in her room packing bags.

“You’re involved now,” he’d said. “I’m sorry. You may be sent back eventually, but if you weren’t meant to come back with us, they wouldn’t have sent the boys to you. I could have found them anywhere.”

She watched him with dawning horror. “But my  _mom_! My family and friends-“

Gabriel shook his head. “Will never miss you. There is another you in our world, a different you. You can’t be in the same place, so they’ll probably swap you. You’ll have her life, they’ll mind whammy her and drop her in your life, and it’ll go on like nothing is out of the ordinary. Like none of this ever happened.”

Swallowing, her expression shifted again, going from the woman to the cold soldier persona like Alice stepping through the mirror.

“And what should I expect of my new life?”

“Honey, I have no idea,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Go pack.”

She gave a nod, then pointed at the Blue Heeler. “Harley comes with me.” Gabriel stared at her, and something in her eyes hardened further. “Non-negotiable.”

When he nodded in acquiescence, she softened back into Savvy again, nodding in return. Then silently turned away and shut herself up in her room.

 

True to his prediction, shortly after dawn the next morning, they all felt the change, the shift, making them all look around wildly, wondering where the displacement was coming from. Savvy immediately grabbed her bat as though expecting demons to get dumped in her living room this time. Her bags were situated in the corner.

“This is our ride, boys,” Gabriel said, his normal cheerfulness sounding forced and tired. “Time to head back to Oz.”

A orange-red vortex began to open up, a hole in reality right in front of the windows, spinning and crackling as it grew in size, revealing nothing more than a black void on the other side.

Scoffing, Savvy shook her head. “Oh, I am not going through there unarmed. You can hang that up to dry.”  She moved to grab her dagger and bowie knife, tucking the dagger into the back of her jeans and then the knife into her boot as Gabriel glanced at their bags and snapped his fingers. Looking at her dog, she patted her hip, bat still firmly held in one hand. “C’mon, Harley,” she said, before taking off running and diving through the portal before anyone could stop her, her companion right by her side.

Gabriel looked at Castiel. “Brother?”

The dark haired man shook his head and stepped closer to Dean’s side. “He and I can’t be separated yet.”

He flashed a smile at the younger Winchester. “Looks like it’s you and me, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Expression severe, Sam gave a nod, his gaze meeting Dean’s and locking. His elder brother gave an infinitesimal nod. Sucking in a deep breath, Sam bobbed his head, then he and Gabriel followed after Savvy, both diving through the ring of power.

Once they were gone, Cas took a step forward to follow suit, only to have Dean’s hand clamp down on his shoulder, making him look back. The severe and desperate expression on the hunter’s face caught Cas off guard, and he turned fully.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

Green eyes played over his friend’s face, memorizing ever detail like it was the last time Dean might ever see him.

“Cas, when we get home, and before the world gets a chance to burn, you and I need to have a talk.” The other man angled his head in confusion, brows drawn together as he tried to read what the problem was. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Okay?” Castiel nodded in returned, and the hunter’s hand fell away. “Good.” He jerked his head toward the vortex. “Now let’s go see what trouble they got up to while we were gone.”

Smiling, Cas gave a sharp nod, then the two of them turned and ran toward the portal that would take them home.

Years of training allowed Dean to land in a roll and come up on his feet in a crouch, ready to attack or dodge out of the way of danger. Beside him, Cas was in much the same position, eyes narrowed and calculating. Dean quickly took in the trees around them. If he was right, they were in the woods not far from Bobby’s salvage yard. They’d had to come out here many a time to bury a monster corpse. Rising together, Sam appeared at his brother’s elbow as the three of them caught sight of the people only a few yards away, Gabriel standing in a lineup as a man stood regarding them.

There was nothing particularly strange about the sight, save for the fact that the lineup consisted strictly of angels. Angels all standing at attention under the eye of this unremarkable man so average, Dean would have instantly forgotten his face in passing. Savvy was standing closer to the group than they were, her feet planted shoulder width apart and bat in front of her, her hands folded over the end of it, and head bowed, eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Even Harley was staring at the ground.

Dean’s eyes snapped to the angels again, a rising panic setting off all the alarms in his head, not just at the sight of the familiar faces of Michael and Lucifer standing side by side in the lineup, along with others like Anna and Balthazar, but the way they, too, stood at attention, though Lucifer looked decidedly less happy about it.

That was when it clicked, and Dean stared at the man, his mouth speaking without permission. “Oh my god, it’s  _God_ ,” his hissed, slapping out blindly for his brother.

Yards away, the man straightened, turning slightly as though someone had called for Him, turning His head slightly to give the three men a hint of a smile, His eyes a swirling rainbow of ever-changing color.

They all took an involuntary step back, Dean trying to push Cas behind him even while grabbing for his brother’s sleeve in the event they had to take off running.

The smile on God’s expression grew more pronounced as He turned back to regard His children. The amusement melted away in an instant.

“Luce,” called God gently.

The fallen angel hadn’t actually been looking at his Father at that point, but glaring pointedly somewhere over God’s shoulder, into the distance of the woods around them. Hearing his name though, Lucifer begrudgingly regarded the speaker.

God continued softly, “You get one shot, Lucifer. Just one. You will help the Winchesters and their allies to the fullest of your capabilities or you will go back in the Cage, do you understand? You are not to betray them or allow harm to come to them through negligence on your part, even if not by your own hand, or you  _will_  go back in the Cage.” He regarded him a moment, calm, like a parent explaining to a child why they were put in time-out and what would land them back in it. “Do you understand?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Lucifer gave a nod, only to have Michael elbow him sharply, earning himself a glare, before the fallen angel regarded their father again. Dean noted that Michael’s appearance was back to that of young John Winchester, while Lucifer was a non-deteriorating Nick. Even had they had different faces, Dean thought he’d know them anywhere.

“Yes, sir,” Lucifer said finally.

Satisfied, God nodded and smiled. “I know you’ll do great things, Luce.”

He let his gaze travel over the other angels, to Michael, Anna, Balthazar, Gabriel, and even Naomi, before his gaze cast over to where Castiel stood by Dean’s side. Everything in the hunter wanted to step between them like a shield. He sensed more than anything that God knew that, because he smiled again, even going so far as to chuckle as he regarded his lineup of children.

“How did I manage to raise such strong-willed, independent thinkers and still get accused of denying you free will?”

The way he said it, each of the angels actually seemed to swell with pride rather than being chastised. They’d all messed up, but he was proud of each of them regardless, for stretching their wings, for risking failure.

“You’re going to have your hands full with this coming battle,” God began, seriously, “but if you put aside your differences and let go of past transgressions to work together, I know you can see this through to the end and come out successful.”

They all saluted as one. “Sir!”

He nodded and looked at the only angel in a business suit. “Naomi. I have a task for you and your subordinates. The others will stay here with the Winchesters and their allies. You will work from a different angle, as per usual.”

She gave a curt nod. “We’ll see our mission through to completion,” she promised.

“Of that I have no doubt.” When He nodded to her again, she saluted and disappeared from sight. Head bobbing, God turned around to face Savvy. She visibly stiffened the moment His eyes landed on her. Harley lowered herself to her belly on the ground. “Savannah,” he greeted.

“Sir.”

He smiled and gestured toward the Winchesters. “Shall we?”

Swallowing thickly, she bobbed her head, repositioning her bat in her grip, and patting her hip for Harley to follow after her, all the while never lifting her gaze to look at more than God’s shoes.

Dean had to suppress a very strong urge to turn and take off running in panic as God calmly began walking their way. He grabbed for Cas’ arm, making sure he was at least a step in front of the angel, and could take off running with him and Sam in tow if he needed. Not that he thought they stood a chance of getting away, but he’d be damned if anyone thought he was just gonna sit around as well. Cas pulled at his arm, shifting their grip so that his hand slipped into Dean’s, squeezing just as tightly on his hand as Dean had on the angel’s arm. He could feel the panic rolling off the angel in waves, making his own spike higher, along with the angry protectiveness he felt, bristling like an angry animal.

Behind God, the angels had relaxed their stance and now a tense standoff of sorts seemed to be taking place as Michael and Lucifer regarded each other, their nearby siblings each taking a step away, brows lowered, and eyes catching every muscle twitch in the two angels as they stared at each other.

The standoff was broken when Lucifer offered out his hand.

Seconds stretched by like small eternities as Michael regarded the proffered hand, before finally taking it in his own, and giving his brother a nod. Anna and the others slumped and let out a huge, collective breath.

            Dean was distracted from the angelic reunion by God’s continued approach, the man in front of him somehow looking different than He had only a moment ago, His appearance shifting between one blink and the next just as His eyes were a swirl of color, yet Dean found himself hard pressed to even recall the details of God’s appearance.

“Well,” God said as He was now close enough to the Winchesters. “I hope you boys at least got some down time in the while you were away.” They glanced nervously at each other, and Sam cautiously gave a nod when the other man said nothing else. “Good. You’ll find your friends have been very busy in your absence, and beforehand, preparing for this next war. I’ve taken the liberty of helping provide you with greater manpower. Also, Crowley and I had a chat and you’ll have no trouble from their side in the upcoming battles, so no need adding that to your lists of concerns. Afterward? Well, I suppose you’ll all fall back into old routines and patterns or either forge new ones.”

Dean wanted to demand why God didn’t just fix the wall to Purgatory himself. He had the power. He’d created it after all, He’d released Michael and Lucifer from the Cage, He’d created  _everything_ , so why not fix it as well, why was He leaving them to do the fighting when they stood the risk of failure? When they really had no idea what they were actually up against?

“If we survive,” he said instead, tone flat. God’s multicolored eyes shifted to him, and he had to clear his throat and look down, feeling oddly small by comparison. Not in a belittled way, but like a child in the presence of an adult, like after everything he’d seen and survived, he still knew absolutely nothing. “Sir.”

God smiled, reaching forward to clap a hand on Dean’s shoulder, causing the hunter to look up in surprise. “I have faith, Dean. You should, too.”

Then, he was gone. The hunters looked around, then across the way to the group of angels who, all at once, slowly turned their heads to regard the humans.

Dean and Sam simultaneously took another step back, Sam shoving Savvy behind them. Not that it would do them any good against that many high-ranking angels. A collective chuckle passed through the angels.

At his side, Cas gave Dean’s hand a squeeze, shifting the hunter’s focus, first down at their hands in surprise, then to the other man, just as Cas’ grip went slack and fell away.

“Shall we go let Bobby know we’re back?” Nervous and uncertain, Dean’s gaze flicked to the angels now walking their way. He missed the way Sam was staring, directly at Lucifer even, brows knitting together and shaking his head in confusion. Savvy was regarding the angels curiously, all traces of the fear Dean felt absent from her face as her eyes played over each of them. He wondered what information her brain was recalling. Cas stepped in Dean’s line of sight. “They won’t cause you any trouble now, you’ll be fine, I assure you.” He took Dean’s elbow and turned him toward Bobby’s house in the distance, Sam hurriedly following his lead and ushering Savvy forward as well, casting another nervous glance over his shoulder. “Come.”

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, Dean tried to fight the burning at the back of his neck, the unease at have so many of his enemies at his back and in his blindside, taking it on faith they weren’t about to strike him- all of them- down now that their Father was no longer present.

            He had no idea how they were supposed to all work together. His brain could not even fathom that much tension in a room, especially if Crowley was going to be working with them as well. He tried to imagine that: Lucifer, Michael, Crowley, Meg, and then him, Sam, and Cas all in the same room, pretending they hadn’t all gone to war against each other. He tried to imagine them peacefully working together, failed, and downgraded to trying to imagine just having a civil conversation with one of them, and was unable to do even that.

            Blowing out a breath, he clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder, making the former angel regard him, brows raised inquiringly. “Cas, buddy, you and I have very different ideas of ‘fine’.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, if you read TPWC, you’ll notice more expansion on the original plot line. With this chapter, DAAAE is now longer than the original. I was trying to give it the feel of an entire season. Comments and feedback welcome! I love hearing from you!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments! I love hearing for you and am thrilled everyone is enjoying the story. I, personally, think you'll really enjoy this chapter. I loved it. So much happens.

Chapter 14

            As Bobby’s house came into view, Dean grinned and elbowed his brother. “Bet you’re glad to get back to Sarah, eh?”

The four of them were carting their bags they’d brought back with them now, looking like nomads coming out of the woods, with an odd collection of other people following a distance behind them.

            Tongue darting out across his bottom lip, Sam huffed out a laugh, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Uh, Dean, about that…” He cleared his throat and cast his brother a glance. “I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you about it, but Sarah and I aren’t what you think we are. We’re just friends… and we’re going to  _stay_  just friends.”

            Dean threw out a hand, planting it in the center of the taller man’s chest and moving so that he stood in front of him blocking his path. He waited until the angels that had been walking behind them passed and were out of ear shot, Cas standing several feet away and looking into the middle distance.

            “What do you mean?” demanded the elder Winchester. “What happened? What did you do? The two of you were into each other.”

            Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sam shrugged. “We talked about it that night at Maggie Stark’s gallery. I adore Sarah, don’t get me wrong, and she and I have a connection, but too much has happened to both of us in the years since we first met. We’re both vastly different people, that somehow that avenue is no longer one either of us can see with the other one. She’s…” His gaze cast about searching for the word, “she’s my friend, could easily become my best friend. She  _feels_  like family, but there’s nothing romantic about it.” Looking guilty, he met his brother’s stunned gaze. “I wanted you to know before you said something in front of her. We  _tried_ , but then we both realized it was what we wanted  _then_ , but not what we want  _now_. That maybe had we changed together, it probably would have worked out, but…” He looked down at his shoes, toe of his boot digging into the dirt. “I’m not saying it was an easy realization, Dean…”

            Heaving a breath, Dean shook his head, reaching out to playfully muss his sibling’s hair. “I tell you what: whoever you do end up with better love you enough to see the world burn rather than lose you.”

            Sam scowled at him, one hand running through his hair as the four of them took up walking again. “That’s a little obsessive and a lot unhealthy, Dean.”

            The older man arched a brow at him. “You had your chance at healthy, and apparently do better with borderline crazy, what with our whole family, then you and Ruby, now you and Sarah.” He shook his head. “Apparently neither of us can have a normal relationship. Everything has to be complicated. Hey, maybe there’s still hope for you and Becky-“

            “Shut your mouth!” Sam gasped, slapping at his brother’s arm with the back of his hand. “That’s not even funny!” He quickly glanced around as though expecting the girl to pounce from the bushes, before he and his brother shared a grin. Then he shrugged, hands going into his pockets again. “No, she seems to have gotten use to us and that’s toned her down a bit. Becky’s alright. I think she and Charlie would make good friends. We need to introduce them.”

            For a moment, Dean considered that. “Yeah, I guess.” His focus shifted to the blue house surrounded by cars in need of repair, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “Right now, I’m just glad to be home.” He glanced over at Savvy. “How you doing?” She glanced at him, brows raised. He gestured vaguely. “Being here. With what’s going on.”

            She shook her head and kept walking. “Hasn’t fully sunken in yet. Feels weird. Like it’s not real, detached, sort of.” She glanced around, examining the scrap yard. “It looks better than when I last saw it. It was a lot junkier. More junk yardish, less scrap yard/auto shop.”

            “We spent several days hauling off junkers and repairing cars,” Sam said. “Trying to clean the place up a bit. Bobby’s on a mission about it.”

            She glanced at him. “He won’t mind my being here, will he?”

            Dean watched as all the angels entered Bobby’s house in a line. “Considering he just had three archangels go in his house, one of them the devil, I somehow think you’re the least of his concerns-“

            “Oh shit, Dean!” exclaimed Sam, suddenly panicked. “Banishing sigils! Angel swords! If Bobby isn’t expecting them-“

            His brother swore and they all took off running toward the house, bodies leaning forward into the sprint. They leapt onto the porch and were through the door in a rush, heads whipping around for the inevitable fight, and faltered at the massively altered interior of Bobby’s home, at the calm faces now giving them curious looks.

            It was like they were no longer in Bobby’s house, but a galley, with long wooden tables, scarred with age and use. Bobby’s kitchen was industrial size and gleaming, the man in question looking up from his discussion with Becky as she talked animatedly, clipboard in hand, occasionally speaking to one of the angels, writing quickly, and showing them files she had in hand.

            “’Bout time you boys got back,” groused Bobby.

            Sam looked around in surprise, twirling his finger in the air. “Uh, Bobby. What the hell is going on?”

            Sighing, Bobby pushed the bib of his cap up to scratch at his graying hair. “As soon as you boys left, things got crazy, that’s what happened.”

            Becky disappeared into another room where the living room should have been, juggling her clipboard and a file folder. She had a 2-way radio strapped to her hip and a blue-tooth piece in her ear she was apparently talking into. Sam motioned to the galley they were standing in.

            “Bobby, what happened to your house?”

            “Mojo. We have ourselves a full house at the moment.” He nodded to Savvy. “Who’s your friend?” He jerked his head toward the angels who were standing around waiting. “I recognize these jokers. I’m guessing they’re here to help as well?”

            The girl in question stepped forward to offer her hand. “Hi. I’m Savvy. Balthazar sent the boys to me.”

            He shook her hand, eyeing her suspiciously. “Singer. Bobby.”

            When she smiled and said nothing, Dean rolled his eyes. “Savvy knows who you are, Bobby. She knows all of them, too,” he said, indicating the angels. “The world she’s from has records of our lives, too.”

            The older man’s brows disappeared beneath his cap and the angels regarded her curiously. A blush crept across Savvy’s cheeks and she sort of bobbed in a slight bow at the waist toward the angels.

            “It’s very, uh,” she faltered, tongue darting out across her bottom lip, “ _interesting_  to get to meet you.” She appeared to be trying not to smile as she spoke. Dean had no idea how this situation was apparently striking her as funny. The angels all inclined their heads in greeting, but said nothing.

            That was when Becky came storming back out of the room she’d disappeared into, file replaced with a megaphone as she stalked forward in determination, eyes locking with Dean and Sam.

            “Am I glad you’re here,” she exclaimed, then waved them to follow her. “C’mon. I need to get you caught up on what’s happened while you were gone before we send you out on the field.” She pointed to the angels. “Guys, you’re with me as well. Introductions need to be made, then we’ll start handing out orders and sending you on missions.” She gave Dean a cross look. “You thought monsters were bad before?” A snort escaped her and she shoved past, heading for the door. “You have no idea. At least the problem with hunters making you out as America’s Most Wanted is finally taken care of. Also, Crowley and Meg say they think they’ve finished off the last of the infected demons. Hellhounds are now dragging souls to Hell through a safer route. Now your biggest worry is monsters like whoa and trying to stop Purgatory from blowing up, but these guys are gonna prove pretty useful, I think,” she stated, hooking her thumb over her shoulder at the angels.

            Dean walked beside her, leaning in to whisper even as he kept an eye on the angels falling into step behind them. “You might not want to give them direct orders, Becky, lest you get smited.”

           She gave him an impatient look. “I do not have time to play nice or be properly humble or whatever, Dean. I have my hands full keeping everything organized and running smoothly.” She handed over the clipboard. “Okay, pay attention,” she said, flippantly waving her hand then pointing to the list of names. “This is our main list of people we’ve already got fully on board and working for us. Charlie is a freaking genius when it comes to getting us funds and supplies, just asks that we don’t look too closely into how she gets them.

‘The Sheriff and Major are currently running the troops through daily training, with the help of Crowley and our friends downstairs. They’re supervising it right now.” She sucked in a deep breath. “The weapons course is taking place in the warehouse as we speak. I’ll take you by later. We’ve rented out the entire inn and a couple of motels in town to house all the volunteer warriors and hunters Chuck recruited. Bobby’s house is packed solid with the big guns, and thanks to the help of our upstairs friends, we’re able to turn the warehouse into a freaking hotel on the inside for our downstairs allies come night fall so we have enough room to put everyone.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” He looked at her in disbelief, only briefly glancing up to see where she was leading him off to, and once back at the angels following behind them.

“Your army, Dean,” she said pointedly. “We already have it ready.” He glanced over her head at his brother who was staring back with wide eyes, brows raised to almost his hairline. Becky continued, “Now that you’re here though, we have several missions we need to send some teams out on, and you, of course, need to be on them, since you are the figureheads of this collective effort. Lisa and Ben are on their way here as well, as a precaution, as this is probably the safest place on the entire planet at the moment, so I called and invited them, not knowing how long you would be out of town.”

He blinked in surprise at her thoughtfulness. “Thanks.” She nodded absently, flipping through sheets of paper with brows furrowed, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to focus her attention on him. “I’m serious. That means a lot to me, Becks.”

The tightness of her expression softened slightly and she gave a soft nod, the corners of her mouth curling. Then, “C’mon. I want all of you to see what we’ve been doing.”

They reached the back of the scrapyard, and rounded a tower of cars to reveal an open turf the size of a football field, where dozens of pairs of people were neatly organized and sparring. Some stopped in their practice fights to correct and instruct, before trying certain techniques again at a slower pace, then at normal speed. What stuck out to Dean though was the fact that every pair had a demon in it, their eyes full black in a way that had to be intentional.

There were people walking up and down the lines, observing, sometimes stopping a pair to give instruction, or correct mistakes they were both making. They would then stand back to observe, before nodding their approval and moving on to watch others with narrowed, ascertaining eyes.

Armed with her megaphone, Becky lifted it to her mouth. “All senior staff needed for immediate conference meeting. I repeat! All senior staff to report in for immediate conference meeting. Sergeant Cherry, please report for presentation immediately! I repeat: Sergeant Cherry report for presentation!”

A blonde began climbing down off a gleaming observation stand, dressed in denim and a soft cotton shirt, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She began to jog across the field, just as several others left their positions and began to migrate in the same direction.

“Sergeant Cherry?” Sam asked as he recognized her.

Becky shrugged. “She insisted.”

Pivoting, Dean grinned back to where Gabriel and Lucifer had their heads bent together, speaking in low tones and hand gestures.

“Hey Gabe,” Dean called out, making them both look at him. It was disconcerting to no end to have the devil’s steady gaze land on him; he fought the urge to want to back away. “There’s someone you’re gonna wanna see,” he said instead.

The shorter male’s expression became one of interest, posture straightening as he stepped forward, gaze scanning before he and his daughter laid eyes on each other. Both of their expressions lit up.

“Dad!” she exclaimed, practically launching herself forward in a tackle of a hug, arms wrapping tightly around him. “You’re okay!”

“Hiya, Pumpkin! Ooh, I missed you!”

He swung her around in a circle before setting her down on her feet, holding her by the shoulders to look her over from head to toe, perhaps recommitting her to memory or reassuring himself she were real. They grinned and hugged again.

“Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes,” a woman drawled, and Dean turned his head to see Ellen Harvelle regarding him, hands resting on canted hips. Her mouth curled in amusement at one corner while the Winchesters just stared. “Looks like you boys got yourselves in a right mess all over again.” Chuckling, she shook her head and turned to call out, “Joanna Beth! You come see who finally showed up at their own party!” she said, stepping forward with her arms outstretched toward Dean.

Jo let out a shriek of glee as she rounded the corner and caught sight of them, throwing herself at Sam with a cackle and hugging him tight.

Dean choked on a wet laugh as Ellen let him go. “So I guess this is what He meant when He said He’d provided us with more manpower. I thought he was still talking about the demons and angels.” She and Ellen swapped off and Jo grabbed him in a bear hug. He squeezed her back so tightly he thought he might break her. “God, it’s so good to see you, Jo. You look good.”

She pulled back to flash him a brilliant smile. “Tends to happen when I’m not trying to hold my entrails, y’know,  _in_.” They hugged again, Dean choking back on tears.

He pulled away with a huff, looking up at the sky and then quickly away, hands on his hips as he coughed and tried to make his voice sound normal. Sam was mopping at his face with his sleeve as his older brother asked, “So is it just you two, or are there more surprises?”

The mother-daughter duo locked arms. “Oh, it’s more than just us,” Ellen assured them, looking in the direction of the house. “Which I’m guessing means we’re in a whole mess of trouble.” She glanced over to where the angels were, Gabriel introducing his daughter to his siblings, then over to where demons and hunters were training side-by-side. Returning her gaze to the Winchesters, she arched a brow. “I also think only you could inspire such an alliance- and be trusted with it.”

Ellen’s sharp eyes found Castiel then, raking him over where he stood a few feet from Dean, but making no move to go stand with the other angels. She jerked her chin toward him. “What’s up with the littlest angel? Bobby said something about Heaven clipped your wings?” She looked him up and down. “They didn’t give them back?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t want them back. I will still fight, but as a human.”

Waving a hand, Becky tried to flag down someone on the other side of the training field while rabidly speaking into her two-way radio, moving further away from the group and onto the field as Ellen made introductions to several unfamiliar faces and Chuck made an appearance, clipboard in hand. He seemed to dwarf in size even more as both Winchesters laid in on him about his disappearance and their search for him, only to learn, he’d had nothing to do with it, and then had been on a mission from God- finding people to sign on with this crazy military effort which was the reason the Winchesters had an army at all.

So busy were they, almost no one noticed the red eyes gleaming in the shadows of the tree line, the blur of a dark shape as it stalked Becky, as the massive black Hellhound pooled out as a curl of gun smoke and ink, pawing the ground before its muscles coiled and it launched its massive bulk at the blonde.

It missed her by scant inches as Savvy tackled the girl out of the way, rolling and rising to her feet as the hellhound landed and pivoted, claws digging rivets into the earth as it prepared for another strike. It pounced at her again, its massive body having several hundred pounds of pure muscle to its advantage, in addition to it being nearly the size of a tiger. It head-butted her clean off her feet as Becky scrambled out of the way, hands pressed over her mouth and eyes wide.

On her back, Savvy used her bat to keep the monster’s jaw from coming down toward her throat as it stood over her. That was when Harley was distracted from all the strange faces and potential threats to realize her mistress was already in grave danger, taking off with a vicious snarl that alerted the others. Dean swore violently before he, Sam, and Cas all ran full-tilt to try and help, not even pausing to check what weapons they even had on them.

Pulling the knife from her boot, Savvy sunk the blade to the hilt into the hellhound’s ribs. It gave a yowl of pain before snarling with fresh viciousness, biting the end of her bat clean off in a shriek of torn metal and tossed it to the side. Eyes widening in horror, she was granted a moment’s respite as Harley reached him, snapping at the hellhound’s tail and biting the beast’s flank, swatted easily to the side with a yelp as the demon dog kicked with one massive hind leg.

The dagger Savvy had tucked into the back of her jeans was out then; she shoved it into the hell hound’s chest and tore downwards, causing a splash of red-black blood to pour out on her as the monster howled in pain and rage. It jumped away from her, staggering on its feet as Harley attacked again, diving in for lightning fast attacks then darting out of harm’s reach, trying to keep the wounded beast distracted. Heaving for air, Savvy pushed herself to her feet, placing herself and the remains of her ruined bat between the hellhound and its original target, tucking away the bloody dagger with her other hand.

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded, tearing her eyes away from the two hounds fighting to look at the girl staring with impossibly wide eyes. “Run!”

The boys got there just as Savvy surged forward, Sam making a grab for Becky, as Dean pulled out Ruby’s knife and Cas withdrew his angel sword. Ruined weapon in hand, Savvy changed her grip on it as she neared the snarling nightmare. Blood poured from the wounds she had already inflicted on it, contrasting sharply with the green of the grass. She held her bat up with both hands, with the torn metal end pointed downward as the creature was kept distracted by Harley, both dogs snapping at the other one. She let out a yell as she brought the sharp metal down to go through the hellhound’s skull.

“Enough!” a voice called out, a sharp snapping of fingers ringing out like a gunshot as the bat disappeared from Savvy’s blood coated hands.

Crowley appeared between one blink and the next just as Dean and Cas reached Savvy’s side. The hellhound dragged itself over to his master, collapsing at Crowley’s feet. Harley stationed herself between the demon and a panting Savvy, lips pulled back in a snarl. The girl withdrew her dagger and stepped into a stance with it again, eyes narrowed and expression hard.

“Crowley?” Dean demanded as the King of Hell reached down the pluck the bowie knife from where it was still imbedded in the hell hounds ribs. He inspected it and ‘tsked’ lightly as the hunter demanded, “What the hell? I thought we had a truce!”

The demon king flicked his wrist and the blade embedded itself in the dirt at Savvy’s feet. Her ruined bat materializing there, as well. “And so we do,” he drawled.

That was when Becky seemed to come back to life, surging forward and away from Sam, to throw herself between the two groups, her arms outstretched and back to _Crowley_ and the very hellhound that had just attacked her.

“Stop! Stop!” she exclaimed, head shaking rapidly. “You misunderstand!”

“Becky, what the hell are you doing?!”

“The hellhounds are trained to do that,” she explained rapidly. “He wouldn’t have hurt me. It’s supposed to keep the troops on their toes. They pin you to the ground in a killing position then back off once you lose. You fight them off. It’s just  _training_.”

“Which you failed miserably at, Becky,” groused Crowley, giving her an impatient look. “Why aren’t you armed?”

She whirled on him, angrily. “Do you  _see_  the clipboard? The mega phone? I am in coordinator mode here, okay? Not solider mode. Solider mode is tomorrow. I am  _multi-tasking_.”

“The rules are that no one is to come on the training field unarmed, Becky, for this very reason right here. You could have been hurt, and without your OCD to keep everything running smoothly we would be in a mess of trouble.”

The others had come closer then, observing the events play out with watchful eyes. The demon king narrowed his gaze, their glittering depths landing on Savvy, who didn’t flinch, just settled into her ready stance again, chin lifting in challenge.

“I don’t recognize you,” Crowley began conversationally. “Identify yourself.”

“Savvy,” she spat at him. “Human. Of the  _pissed-off_  variety.”

He trailed a hand through the air over the hell hound at his feet laboring for breath. The creature’s wounds sealed themselves closed as Crowley’s hand passed over the monster, its attempts to breathe immediately requiring far less effort. The man’s suddenly red eyes found Savvy’s brown ones.

“Had your weapon been appropriately marked, you could have killed my dog.”

“A mistake I won’t make twice,” she promised.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Becky snapped in warning, glaring over her shoulder, before scurrying forward to the woman who had saved her. She paused and knelt to pick up the bowie knife and bat, holding them out like a peace offering. “Thank you so much for your help earlier. It was my fault for coming on the field when I wasn’t supposed to and without a weapon. The hellhound was just doing its job, but  _you_! You were amazing!” Her voice sounded more than a little breathy and awed, making Dean frown at the sudden gear shift. She thrust out a hand. “Hi, I’m Becky Rosen.”

Eyes trailing over the blonde once, Savvy looked down at her own ruined appearance as she took back her weapons and sighed heavily, one blood stained hand reaching down to give Harley’s head a pat, and tucking the knife back into her boot.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replied flatly, straightening and grabbing Becky by the hand before pulling the other woman along with her and off the field. “Let’s focus on getting you somewhere safe and me a shower, okay?”

She patted her hip as they walked and Harley fell into step beside them, the angels parting to let them by. Savvy stopped when she reached Lucifer and Gabriel, blinking and looking down at her ruined softball bat. Lifting her arm, she held the destroyed weapon parallel to the ground and gave them a beseeching look, smiling when a snap from the taller of the two returned it to wholeness. Inclining her head to Lucifer, she turned and continued walking, Becky now walking beside her, rather than being pulled along behind. Savvy didn’t release her grip though, scowl still fully focused on the house in the distance.

“Remember how she gets when someone pulls heroics,” Dean called after them in warning. Savvy threw up a hand of acknowledgement before they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. His gaze shifted back to the hell hound sitting obediently by Crowley’s side, then to Ellen, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Becky had said something about needing to send people out on missions now that we’re done with the meet and greet?” he said after the silence stretched too long.

Grinning, Ellen clapped him on the back, nodding once to Crowley as she steered the young hunter back toward the house, Chuck wandering off with a clipboard and 2-way radio he was speaking into. “Oh boys,” she said, “we haven’t even caught you up to half speed yet.”

Behind them, Crowley called out, “Oh, and boys?” They paused and looked back. He met Dean’s eye, then nodded to Cas “You and True Love over there are safe to pine from a distance again.” They glanced at each other. “In the nick of time, too. We need all you out there  _leading_  this motley crew.”

He turned away and Dean clapped Cas on the back as they continued on, squeezing his shoulder. “Hear that, Cas? You’re a free man now.”

Considering this, the former angel gave a shake of his head. “I never felt trapped.”

Sam looked worriedly at the angels walking in front of them, then to the demons training on the field. He leaned in, whispering, “Lead? Us?” Dean looked at him, arching a brow. The taller male gave him a pointed look, jabbing in finger in the air before hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “You think  _they_  or  _them_  are going to listen? To  _us_?”

Dean eyed the archangels and lesser angels walking in a group, but not exactly ‘together’, and he realized that none of them had really spoken to each other; Michael and Lucifer were pointedly keeping distance between themselves, and the rest just sort of seemed to be walking on their own.

He shrugged. “God said we have to work together.”

“Working  _with_  them and giving them  _orders_  are two  _very_  different things, Dean.” His anxious eyes drifted most often to the angels that had needed to use them as vessels.

The elder Winchester watched the three present archangels. Lucifer was talking to Gabriel and Gabbie now, the shadow of something that might have been fondness or amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. Anna walked by Michael, though, a deliberate pace behind him. His back was straight and chin up.

They’d shaken hands earlier, but as far as Dean knew, the two brothers hadn’t actually exchanged a word. In fact, he didn’t think he’d seen Michael utter a word to anyone.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

 

 

 

Their first mission as an army actually split their forces. Though he didn’t say it, the idea of suddenly being away from Cas made Dean extremely nervous.

When they showed up on Main Street of the small town they were investigating, Dean had sudden flashbacks to when they’d first encountered War. Cars were abandoned in the road, a convenience store was burning, alarms blared in every direction, but the streets appeared to be abandoned.

“We were called about mass hysteria and violence overrunning the town,” began Sam, fingers flexing on his sawed-off. “So where is everybody?”

The demon with them had its eyes turned solid black, scanning everything, just as Michael and Lucifer both were.

“Can any of you see anything we can’t?” asked Dean.

Michael was frowning into the middle distance. “There’s…  _something_  here-“

“Lots of somethings,” added his brother.

“But we’re just not seeing it yet.” His gaze regained focus and he looked at Dean. “No one needs to go off alone. There are things out there, but I can’t begin to tell you what they are.”

“Dean.”

The blond nearly came out of skin as Tessa materialized in front of him, looking as composed as ever. Something crashed in an alley, then the sound of metal rolling on concrete. The others moved into a circle while the hunter and reaper regarded each other, him slowly relaxing his posture again.

“Tessa!” He looked around. “How come you’re all…  _visible_?”

“We are agents of Heaven, Dean. God called all willing to the front lines. Many of Death’s agents are among those numbers.”

He nodded at the destruction around them. “So I take it, this is probably something that pinged first with reapers. Zombies?”

She folded her arms. “Not quite, but close enough. A sudden rain fell on the town that seemed to infect the town’s inhabitants. We had thousands of souls being forced from bodies like a rejected organ. We’ve taken care of the souls, but the bodies are still just as violent. The zombie premise works much the same. They kill you, and you’ll become one.”

“So not just from a bite or a scratch?”

She shook her head. "Not unless you die within an hour or two of the injury."

There was shuffling of many feet in the distance, of things dragging the ground. Dean wet his bottom lip.

“Please tell me you are here to do more than inform us.”

She smiled. “We were allowed to pick our task in the upcoming battle. I and my garrison will fight under you. You have me for now; I’ve order the others to help your other groups at the hospital and jail.”

He arched a brow, glancing over her shoulder and watching the main intersection where the majority of the noise seemed to be originating from. “You’ve got your own garrison?” he asked absently as she moved to stand beside him, a traditional long handled scythe appearing in her hands.

“I’m to inherit the mantle of Death, Dean.” She smiled. “Of course I have my own garrison.”

Sam eyed her weapon warily, moving a touch further from her. “That has a pretty long reach, just be mindful of who’s around you.”

Dozens of shuffling and fumbling forms appeared them, coming toward each other, then turning onto Main Street like merging traffic. Most were covering in blood, some had limbs that looked misshapen, joints dislocated, ribcages that were smashed in or protruding through their chests.

“Relax, Sam,” Tessa said, “a reaper’s weapon only kills exactly what she wants it to.”

Sensing the group of living beings, the zombie horde stirred with more energy, a wave of alertness seeming to sweep over them. Heads lifted or rolled around so that gray filmed eyes glinted like a predator’s upon spying prey. The entire undead force faltered, waited.

“Guys,” whispered Dean, trying to move his mouth as little as possible to speak. He cast sidelong glances at Michael and Lucifer. “Don’t suppose you can do something to take care of them all at once?”

“Not while remaining in our human shapes,” Lucifer admitted.

            With the unity of a pack of wild animals, the zombies stirred to action again, those with the full use of their legs breaking into a run, a roar rising from all the gaping, bloody mouths.

            “There’s too many of them,” pointed out the demon with them, making Dean grin and adjust his grip on his machete.

            “Have a little faith.”

            “Is now the time for jokes?” Michael snapped.

            Sam snorted. “Usual bet, Dean? Most kills wins?”

            “Loser buys dinner. Hell yeah.”

            Lucifer lunged out to meet the first zombie head on, slipping behind it and stabbing it through the neck with his angel sword. He met the Winchesters’ eyes, a crooked smile on his lips. “I’ll take that bet.”

            They all surged forward then, Dean decapitating one zombie as he dashed by, only to impale another. With a roar, Sam’s gun exploded, a man’s head became a spray of gray matter and blood. The body went slack at the knees and crumpled to the ground. Actually grinning, Tessa slipped into her ghostly form, sweeping through the oncoming masses, her scythe nothing more than a silver flash of light and metal as she drifted like mist, out of the reach of grabbing hands, and took out the undead that were crawling or dragging their way forward.

            Staying near his brother, Sam and Dean fought almost back to back, the taller of the two firing off round after round from his weapon. A woman lunged at him, causing Sam to catch her across the side of the face with the butt of the weapon so hard her head snapped clean to the side, bones breaking audibly. She fell to her knees, dazed for a second, before her snarls renewed and she moved to rise.

            Placing the muzzle of his gun to her head, Sam pulled the trigger, face pinched tight.

            All thoughts outside of the battle forgotten, Dean severed spinal cords and decapitated the walking dead until he had a pile of them accumulating at his feet, with no time for the jibes and jokes they'd made the last time he’d taken on an army of undead. There was more urgency to this fight, the enemy faster and more organized, moving with an almost hive-like mentality. Even with the growing pile of bodies at his feet, the other zombies paid the fallen no mind, just proceeded to step or climb over them, to try to get to the two Winchesters.

            Reaching out, Dean touch Sam on the arm, the younger nodding, before they took off running to a more open area to fight, where their feet weren't in danger of getting tripped up on corpses. One of the major rules of fighting zombies: don’t fall.

            They took out any zombies they passed on the way, Sam tossing away his gun once it was out of ammo and removing his own machete, fighting in a mix of martial arts and blade to clear a path as he and Dean cut through the horde.

            Their demon ally and Tessa had joined forces, the reaper in solid form was almost a surreal sight. Dressed in her usual black blouse, leather jacket, and tight jeans combo, she held the Grim Reapers scythe in her hands, blood and visceral matter dripping from the blade. The demon deftly wielded  _chakrams_ , throwing the spinning blades that dealt out deadly accurate carnage all around them, before returning to the wielder’s hand. Tessa had walkers falling in one waved after another at her feet, her blade moving in a graceful arch through the air like an extension of her body.

            Michael and Lucifer fought near one another, though clearly not working together as a team. They were both more than capable of looking after themselves. Even as the Winchesters fought their own grasping corpses, Dean watched the way Lucifer would create a ring of copies of himself, confusing his attackers, as false copies passed through zombies in a fake attack, or a walker dove right through his flickering likeness, and the fallen angel then swiftly dealt killing strikes to each of them, in moves that almost looked choreographed.

            Behind him, Michael disappeared and reappeared rapidly, darting in and out, all the while not appearing to move from his original location save for the light flickering appearance, as if he were a ghost. In a blink he would fly behind an attacker, shoving his blade in to the hilt, before reappearing in his exact starting location and stance.

            A pair of walkers crawled behind a car, waiting for an opening in the carnage, then launched themselves off the hood at Sam and Dean. As the fighting had continued, the brothers had been lured further apart from each other without realizing how much they’d been separated. Lucifer appeared wordlessly by Sam in a displacement of air, arms wrapping around the hunter as he spun his true vessel out of the way and transported him to a safer location, before disappearing again to his original fighting position near Michael. The brunette’s head whipped around sharply in surprise, all of it happening to quickly, he’d hardly had time to process it, now torn between looking over at Lucifer in terror and back over at his brother too far away for him to get to and help.

            The other walker was a teenage girl with half the flesh of her mouth removed to reveal her teeth. Dean was nearly thrown off balance as she landed on his back, fingers digging into the leather of his jacket as she opened her ruined mouth and tried to sink her teeth into his throat.

            “Sonuvabitch!” he exclaimed, flipping the machete around in his grip and shoving it backwards.

            It passed through her open maw and through the back of her throat, barely missing her spine. She gurgled on blood, her grip loosing as he scrambled out of his jacket and away from her. Once free, he spun around to find her crouched on the ground, fingers clenching and unclenching in his jacket as congealed blood oozing past her lips. She cocked her head unnaturally and tightened her muscles to spring again.

            His blade caught her in the throat mid-pounce, their eyes meeting for a split second before the machete cut through sinew and bone, severing her head from her body in a spray of blood that splashed across his clothes and grim expression. He caught sight of Sam’s horrified expression and nodded to him in reassurance, before pivoting back around to the angels.

            Michael was actually standing in one location, almost appearing to be waiting as an undead woman with half her scalp missing settled into a crouch, hesitating as if sensing the trap. Ability for higher brain function gone, though, she acted anyway, launching herself and pouncing at him.

            The angel disappeared again, but this time not into her blind spot to strike the killing blow, but to slay another zombie. Her momentum sent her sailing through the air and Lucifer was hit by the woman from behind. The fallen angel was knocked off balance by the unexpected blow, his attention having been focused on the undead man attacking him as well from the front.

            “Sam!” Dean yelled, taking off running toward them. His brother was right on his heels.

            Lucifer reached back to grab the snarling woman by what was left of her hair and flipped her over onto her back on the pavement, his hand covering her face as angelic power lit her up from within, while with his free hand, he shoved his sword through the throat of the burly male. The walkers outstretched arms and grasping fingers flailed inches from Lucifer’s dark expression. The archangel yanked the blade back out and shoved it in under the man’s jaw and into his head. The corpse collapsed with the disconcerting thud of a body falling dead to the ground.

            Heaving a breath, Lucifer wiped black matter off his face with the back of his hand, looking up in surprise as the Winchesters’ pounding feet came to a stop by his side.

            “Are you okay?” Sam demanded, breathless.

            The devil blinked, penetrating gaze locking with the brunette’s before he nodded slowly, uncoiling and straightening to full height.

Glaring, Dean’s gaze swept the area for Michael, just as he reappeared nearby. The archangel’s eyes searched the middle distance.

            “I think that may be the last of them,” he said calmly.

            The literal last of them were being taken out by Tessa, her blade mowing them down effortlessly, bodies falling to pieces in wet thumps and splats, before she straighten, the head of her weapon on the ground. She primly knocked gore from her clothing.

            Dean looked back to Michael, gaze narrowed as the two archangels nodded to each other, before walking over to meet the reaper and demon. When Sam moved to follow, Dean grabbed his arm, pointing to where the angels had just been battling.

            “What the hell was that?”

            Frowning, Sam glanced past him then back. “What was what?”

            “Michael set his brother up for that attack from behind.”

            Eyes widening, he looked to the brothers, then back to his own. “Are you sure?”

            “I  _know_  what I saw.”

 

            Sam shook his head. “No, Dean, you couldn’t have. He’s  _Michael_. God said to work together, so he’ll do it-  _without question_ \- whether he likes it or not.”

            Green eyes followed the archangel that had once needed him for a vessel in order to walk on earth. “God said ‘if’.” The younger of the two frowned in confusion. Dean clarified, “God said ‘if you put aside your differences and past transgressions to work together’. He didn’t order any of them but Lucifer.”

            His brother paled and looked back at the pair in question. “…Well, if Michael were planning to cause trouble, surely God would put a stop to it.” He spun back around, his throat working. “I mean, he ordered Lucifer to help, probably knowing the others would as well. I can’t imagine he’d warn Lucifer and then just _let_ Michael step out of line. God apparently went to a lot of effort to orchestrate all of this.”

            This idea rolled around in his head a moment. “…You have a point,” he said slowly, not fully assured.

            Clapping him on the shoulder, Sam opened his mouth to speak, then faltered, looking around. “What happened to your jacket?”

            “My Teenage Zombie grabbed hold of me.” He strode away to retrieve the article of clothing, frowning at the cleaning it would require. At least it wasn’t shredded. The others circled around just as street lights began to flicker on and Dean realized dusk was setting in. He sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I loved it. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you thought. Seriously, I loved this chapter. The river witches were fun. And feels, right?


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

            When they were teleported back in front of Bobby’s house again, the sight of the number of assembled people in suits and eerily expressionless faces made Dean looked to Tessa.

            “Your people?” They all looked like a line of family members from the same color sucking funeral home.

            Tessa gave a nod, regarding them. “You know demons, angels, and hunters by sight. We made a point to be identifiable as well.”

            Reaching back to scratch the back of his neck, Dean’s gaze immediately went to the window that was his and Cas’ room, suddenly desperate to find the angel and see for himself he was okay.

            “Alright, well. They mojo’d the hell out of this place like  _Rose Red_ , so I’m sure there’s room for all of you as well.”

            “There’s no need for your concern,” she said. He looked at her. “Death doesn’t sleep. We’ll stand guard around the property through the night.”

            He smiled at her, wondering if it were normal to feel so affectionate toward the being that would one day rip his soul from his body. And had already in the past. “Thanks, Tessa.”

            “Rest well.”

            Catching his brother’s eye, Dean jerked his head toward the house, already stepping forward. “C’mon. I wanna make sure Cas is alright. If Crowley lied about keeping him safe?” He snorted and shook his head. “I will go all  _kinds_  of Alastair’s apprentice on him.”

            Huffing a laugh, his younger brother grinned. “I think you would have sensed it, Dean. Admit you were worried just because you were worried, or I will start singing a song about the two of you and trees.”

            “Trees?” questioned Lucifer behind them, nearly making both Winchesters jump. The angels who had silently been right behind them this whole time regarded them. Michael’s expression was somehow stony, yet… blank. On the other hand, Lucifer wore a lesser version of the perplexed expression they were so use to from Cas, head tilt and all.

            “It’s a joke,” was all Dean said, voice clipped as every instinct screamed he put space- _lots_ of space- between the angels and themselves.

            “It’s a children’s song,” Sam elaborated, the muscle in his jaw twitching nervously. “For teasing.”

            The blond inclined his head in understanding, before gesturing toward the house. As they moved to go inside, they were met at the door by Becky and Bobby.

            “Oh good!” she exclaimed. “You made it- oh wow, you two are gonna need a shower and a change of clothes before dinner. You can write up your reports afterward. I expect them first thing tomorrow morning. Does anyone need medical attention?”

            “Reports?” Dean echoed, disbelieving, just as Sam assured her they were fine.

            She pointed over her shoulder toward where the library had been and was apparently now the War Room. “You can find all the appropriate forms in there.” She pushed the screen door open for them.

            They filed in, faltering as Michael put a hand on Lucifer’s chest, stopping him from entering the house. Their gazes met, the others watching curiously, and then warily as Michael softly asked, “Shouldn’t you stay in the warehouse with the demons instead?”

            Sam stiffened as Dean’s gaze darted back and forth between the two, not knowing of a damn thing they could do if this turned violent. Hand still holding the screen door open, Becky was holding her breath.

            “No,” replied the blond angel, tone and volume purposefully matching his brother’s. He indicated with his head to where Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, the entire interior of the house at their back. “All angels are stationed with the Winchesters.”

            “It’s fine, Michael,” interjected Becky with forced brightness.

            His head moved with a speed that somehow set him apart as not exactly what he seemed. “I’m simply trying to ensure the safety of-“

            “If  _he_  has to stay in the warehouse,” Bobby cut it, causing the archangel to look at him, tone purposefully matching that of the archangels, “then so do you.”

            Lucifer blinked in surprise then, head jerking to regard Bobby with a start, while Michael’s expression grew colder.

            Bobby didn’t back down, glaring at Michael in a way that always made Dean and Sam back down real fast. “ _My_  house. We’re under a truce, so I’m letting the entire lot of you dicks in my home, unless one of you decides to break  _my_  rules.” His gaze finally left Michael’s then, drifted to Lucifer’s and back again. “One of your siblings can show you to your rooms. Lucifer, you’re with Gabriel. Michael, you haven’t been assigned a roommate yet.”

            Michael’s hand fell away. Lucifer actually looked hesitant to speak up, eyeing the older hunter cautiously. “You know angels do not require sleep, right?”

            “Don’t doesn’t mean can’t,” he snapped back, then jerked his head. “Now get inside before I ban you both just cause I can.”

            Easing into the house, Becky sidled up next to Dean, leading him and Sam upstairs. “Your rooms are in the same place,” she began softly. “Cas is back as well. Last I saw, in your room reading. Drop your clothes down the shoot in the bathroom and they’ll be taken care of.” She plucked at his sleeve until he fully regarded her, Sam already having been caught by Sarah and fallen back to talk. “I’m glad you and Sam are back safe.”

            He smiled at what he knew she was really saying. “Sam thinks you’re alright. He actually thought about introducing you to Charlie; said the two of you would make good friends. We kind of adore Charlie, so that should tell you something.”

            Her smile turned watery. “It was a sweet thought. And she and I did hit it off.” God, yeah, they had to start treating Becky better if just this small consideration was enough to move her to blinking back tears. She composed herself. “Dinner is til eight. After that, finding something to eat and heating it up are on you. There are always leftovers.”

            After she’d disappeared down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a previously non-existent third floor, Dean opened the door to his and Cas’ room, pausing at the sight of the pair passed out on the bed. Cas was propped up on pillows, with whatever book he’d been reading still open on his chest. Beside him, Charlie was curled on her side and fast asleep, her own book having fallen out of her grip.

            Closing the door softly, Dean huffed a smile to himself and quietly crept around the room to gather a change of clothes. Pausing at the foot of the bed, he grabbed the afghan and tossed it over both of them before easing out of the room again and heading off to get a nice hot shower.

 

            The galley was mostly empty when he made it back downstairs, and he found his brother already in the kitchen, sitting up on the stainless steel counter, eating a bowl of something. His hair was still damp and he was cad his favorite sleep clothes.

            “Hey,” Sam greeted.

            Nodding, Dean moved to one of the industrial sized fridges and opened the door, peering into the brightly lit interior. There were stacks of Tupperware containers in neat order inside.

            “Each thing is one meal,” offered Sam. “Just put it in a bowl or plate and heat it up.”

            Selecting something of chicken, rice, cheese, and peppers, Dean popped it in the microwave, then went to sit on the counter next to his brother once it was finished, purposefully bumping the other man’s shoulder as he did. Chuckling, Sam playfully bumped back, and Dean peered into his bowl.

            “What are you eating?”

            “Beef and vegetable soup somebody made.” He looked at his brother’s plastic container. “Oh, that looks good, too.”

            They swapped containers, both trying the other’s food, before nodding their approval. Trading food again, they laughed.

            “So where’s Cas?” Sam questioned looking around.

            “In bed with a pretty red head.”

            The auburn haired man looked at him sharply, his expression instantly guarded. “Please tell me it was Charlie or his sister.”

            Laughing, Dean raised his container closer to his lowered head. “Charlie. Looks like they fell asleep reading.” The taller Winchester visibly relaxed with a released breath, making Dean laugh again and push against his shoulder. “Why so worried? Thought you said he had a thing for me.”

            Snorting, Sam spooned food into his mouth, nodding. “He does, but he’s a Winchester now, so being skilled at poor choice making is kind of inherit-“

            “Hey!”

             Unfazed, Sam waved airily and shrugged. “And y’know, I don’t think we have enough Kleenex and chocolate on hand to mend your broken heart.” Head falling back, Dean barked with laughter. “Not to mention: I really like Cas, he’s family. Having to break his knees now that they’re vulnerable would just be  _awkward_. For me.”

            Dean continued to chuckle into his food, before his gaze drifted around the open ground floor. Ellen and the Major were in the war room going through people’s reports from their missions that day. Dean definitely wasn’t looking forward to having to fill out paperwork now when missions were completed.

            How would that even work?

Ran into Tessa.

Tessa joined team.

Zombie slayage.

Returned to headquarters.

End report.

He cast a glance at his brother. “You are gonna be so much better suited at the paperwork side of this gig than I am.”

Chewing, Sam considered this a moment, before finally nodding. “Basic literacy _does_ help.”

“How can they expect us to lead an army?” Dean demanded. More he thought about it, the more likely it seemed there had been a mistake. “Soldiers on the front lines, sure, but to lead?”

“I think we’re more the faces of the army, figureheads, whatever,” Sam said. “Yes, definitely right there on the front line. But you and I both know we’ll both go to Bobby and Ellen for advice and help, just like we’ve always done. They, in turn, will trust our judgment and instincts.” He shrugged, watching as Bobby and Crowley joined the pair in the War Room and started looking over maps and books. “We’re President, and they’re our Cabinet. They make sure we do our job well, better than we could ever hope to do on our own.”

Dean sighed. “I guess.”

Dipping his head, Sam tried to catch his brother’s eye, waiting until their gazes locked before speaking. “Dean. For the first time ever… we have the most powerful forces of Heaven, Earth, and Hell sitting around actually working together!” He cast his eyes about, hands grasping at air as if that would help him find the right words. Their eyes met again. “Do you think that has ever happened before? Division is what drove  _one_  to become  _three_ , Dean. Now the three are converging into one again! Maybe this is what it takes. Maybe something so huge had to threaten all of us equally in order for the fighting to stop!”

“Do think it will?” Dean pressed, gaze narrowed and searching. “Put aside personal desire for a semi-regular life, fantasies of a world where kids don’t lose their parents and end up terrified of the thing under their bed because they  _know_  it’s real, or worse, they get older and end up like us. Do you think they- we-  _everyone_  can just stop fighting this war that’s being pointlessly marching on for thousands of years?”

Hazel eyes searched his face, and Sam looked away, hand running through his hair before he looked back at his brother. “Do you think any of us could go back like it never happened?”

Looking away, the blond shook his head. No. Things might not be peaceful, but things would definitely never go back. They were on the verge of something new, and he had no idea whether the cliff’s edge should terrify him, or if he needed to jump headlong off of it.

Clearing his throat, Dean coughed once. “How are you doing with, uh,” he twirled his index finger vaguely, “y’know,  _them_  being in the house? You okay?”

“You mean Michael and Lucifer or the angels in general?”

“Either. Both.”

Sam gave a jerky shrug. “As crazy as this is probably going to sound to you: I trust them.”

Arching a brow, Dean regarded him. “You’re right. That does sound crazy.” His gaze shifted back to the War Room. “Even Lucifer?”

“I trusted him first and foremost,” his brother admitted softly, looking down at his empty soup bowl, long fingers curling around it. Dean studied him from the corner of his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, he still scares me. _Seriously_ scares me, or well, makes me _really_ uncomfortable, but at the same time… I trust him. I’m not really sure how to explain it. I just… know. I mean, I’ve been in the guy’s head, or well, he was in mine.” A pause. “He agreed to fight with us and help us. I know he will and that we can trust him.”

“You’re sure?”

Lifting his head, Sam met his brother’s eye. “He’s the reason I didn’t get trapped in the Cage, Dean.” Green eyes widened. “When I… jumped and grabbed Michael,” his gaze drifted past Dean’s shoulder and grew unfocused, “Lucifer…  _shoved_.” He looked back at Dean. “Then he and I were falling in different directions and I woke up at Bobby’s. His face, or well, his current face, was the last thing I saw before waking up.”

His elder brother held up a hand, trying to process this new piece of information, voice suddenly a low growl, “So all this time when we thought it was _God_ who saved you-“

“I wasn’t sure it wasn’t part of a coma dream-“

“And you mean to tell me it was  _Lucifer_?” he hissed.

“Dean, I wasn’t sure until I saw him again!” Sam beseeched, jumping off the counter, to block his brother from doing just that. Large hands grabbed Dean’s shoulders, their foreheads almost touching as Dean glowered, nostrils flared. “I didn’t know,” he insisted in a whisper, “not until we actually looked right at each other did I realize it had been real and not my brain trying to make sense of something it couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Something I figured out just this morning?” scoffed Sam. “Uh, gee, Dean, when did I have the time?” He straightened and they both gave each other cross looks, Sam folding his arms and standing like an unmoveable force. “Like I said: I trust him. The person I am uncertain of, the person we’re both uncertain of, is _Michael_.”

Dean’s brow quirked. “Thought you said I must have seen it wrong.”

A dismissive wave. “I still do. But Michael is not use to following orders from anyone but God, is normally the one to  _give_  the orders. He’s a strong personality type on a team with a whole lot of other strong personalities.” Their gazes locked and Dean could suddenly see all of their advisors yelling and at each other’s throats. “He’s the one already proving resistant to elements of this alliance, and I’m a little concerned. It might be good to talk to him.”

 

Recognizing that look, Dean recoiled backwards. “Whoa. You mean me. You want  _me_ … to talk to  _Michael_. Probably unarmed and without backup as well, right?”

 

“You are his true vessel, Dean. You have a connection to him that’s unique. He might be inclined to listen to you. You’re the Righteous Man, after all. He’s not gonna hear  _me_  out. I’m the Boy With Demon Blood, remember?”

Dean slipped off the counter and away from his brother. “You apparently got the laced soup because you are talking all  _kinds_  of craziness now.” Sam reached for his arm to stop him, and Dean spun just out of reach, turning to face him with hands raised. “Let’s just… give it a few days, okay? Let everyone get use to the idea that, _yes_ , this is really happening. Let’s not have the heart-to-heart with the guy that wants to wear me like a suit  _just_  yet, okay?”

A moment stretched and finally, Sam relented with a single nod. Dean nodded back, before letting his head fall back to regard the wood beams overhead.

“C’mon. You’ve got reports to fill out and I have a presumptuous red-head to kick out of my bed.” He looked at his sibling, suddenly very tired. “I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to make it all work.”

 

 

The vampires arrived just as the sun was beginning to make its way over the horizon the next morning, the galley bustling with angels, hunters, and a few demons all getting breakfast. The angels detected them first, going still as the five people ascended the porch steps and knocked. Bobby and Dean greeted them, Dean’s face lighting up as the woman, in her wide brimmed hat and glasses, slid the shades from her face.

            “Lenore!” he exclaimed, grinning. “You hear the call to arms, too?”

            She smiled back as Sam came closer, grinning. “A messenger came to us and offered for us to help where we could, if we wanted.”  Her smile widened. “Seeing as the call for help came from you two, we couldn’t not.” She motioned back to a man with them, dressed in sailor’s clothing that seemed out of time somehow. “We ran into him on the way. He agreed to join the fight as well.”

            The vampire stepped forward to offer a thick hand. “Benny Lafitte.” Dean took the proffered hand, and the man glanced at him over his own shades, smirking. “I’m actually  _from_  Purgatory and am more than happy to help you keep the barrier where it is.” His voice was warm with a slight drawl that made the hunter think of whiskey and hot summer nights.

            As they shook, Dean made introductions. “I’m Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam.” They all shook, while Lenore’s calm expression took in the hustling galley around them. Several of the angels stared with hard expressions. Indicating Lenore, Dean asked Benny, “Okay, just so we’re all clear: you on the vegetarian diet, too, or…”

            The female wrinkled her nose. “No, he isn’t.”

            Benny was quick to hold up the small cooler he was carrying. “But I am also not a threat. Meal in a bag.”

            The three men regarded the red cooler. “Okay,” Dean said slowly. “How long is  _that_  gonna last you and are all us walking Happy Meals gonna be a problem for you?”

            “Don’t even worry yourself, brother,” Benny drawled with a chuckle. “I’ve been living on transfusions a long time. I know how to get more without trouble or drawing attention.”

            The elder Winchester regarded the leader of the other vampires. “Lenore? You okay with this?”

            She begrudgingly nodded. “He’s chosen a peaceful alternative.”

            Nodding, he called for Becky to give them room assignments, offering that any of them could join the rest of the crew for breakfast if they wanted.

            From his spot leaning against a pillar, Balthazar unfolded his arms to wave a hand. “Someone please explain to me why the vampires get to stay in the house? I’m a bit fuzzier on the rules than I thought.” At Dean’s arched brow, he continued, “Well, demons are out back. Most other hunters are in town. What are the qualifications for this VIP pass to Bobby’s?”

            “Friends and family,” Sam said evenly. He motioned toward the group of vampires. “They’re friends.”

            The blond angel gave a wry smile. “Oh, are we friends now, Winchester?”

            “No,” Dean snapped, “you aren’t.” The other man looked at him, eyes frosty. Dean looked over at Castiel. “But Cas is our family now, and you’re  _his_  family, and he is the  _only_  reason you’ve been trusted in the house.” With that he clapped Castiel on the back, insisting on introducing him to chocolate chip waffles.

            After they got their breakfasts and sat down on one end of the long table the angels were sitting at, Meg took a spot by Dean on the bench with her own food.

            “Does that make me a friend or family since I’m staying in the house as well?”

            He snorted as everyone began cutting out portions of their breakfast and putting them on a spare plate so Cas could try a little of each, trying to learn what he did and didn’t like. The angel in turn cut and distributed his own breakfast to share with all of them.

            “After you rode my brother for a week,” Several people at the table made a choking sound, “I think that makes us in-laws. You’re actually here because you’re too big of a threat to other demons. It’s to keep them safe from you, and you safe from them.”

            Cas looked at Sam curiously. “You were possessed for a week?”

            The taller man had his face buried in his hand. “Speaking of things we are never talking about again…”

            Meg was laughing, grinning at Dean almost fondly. “You tortured me for two weeks straight for that, remember? Once we were training under Alastair?”

            “Should have done it for a _month_.”

            “You know I kept him from seeing or remembering any of it,” she said defensively.

            He scowled at her. “You still wore my  _brother_  like a little black dress!”

Jo choked on her oatmeal, squeezing her eyes shut and digging the heels of her palms in. “Oh God, now all I can see is Sam in drag. Where do we keep the brain bleach?”

“Rode him like a prize pony, baby,” purred Meg, winking at the younger Winchester who looked about ready to stab himself with his own fork, while Jo just pushed the remainder of her breakfast toward Cas and let her forehead hit the table with a thud.

“Don’t mess with him again,” another voice cut in calmly.

They all stopped to look at Lucifer, who hadn’t even been looking at them from where he sat with his siblings. His head turned and he looked directly at Meg.

A pause and he turned back to the conversation with the angels, leaving the occupants at the other end of the table suddenly feeling like they could breathe.

Meg stayed silent and focused on her breakfast then, and Dean arched a brow, smirking. “That’s it? You, of all people, just… comply?”

“ _All_  of demon-kind just got that order,” she whispered lowly. “ _Nobody’s_  going to argue it.”

Both Winchester’s looked sharply toward Lucifer again. He, Michael, and Anna were going over a scroll Samandriel had delivered earlier- after retrieving it from the library of Alexandria before it burned. Gabriel and Balthazar were writing extensive notes- diagrams, sigils, and words filling page after page.

Meeting eyes across the table, Sam pointed to the angelic warriors. “Yeah, I’m totally okay with having them on our side this time around.” He held up a hand, and Dean slapped it with his own.

“Totally okay with it.”

From his spot straddling a chair at the end of the table, Benny chuckled and took a sip from his thermos. “This is the  _strangest_  group I have ever bore witness to.”

 

 

A series of drown victims was their next case, leading them down to an abandoned warehouse district by the river. Weeds were taking back the cement, and rust and corrosion made the long series of nearly identical buildings almost appear dilapidated.

            They all split up into pairs, Lucifer and Sam working together, since Dean was worried about what might happen if Michael and Lucifer were left alone, and Lucifer had already shown signs are prioritizing Sam’s safety. The demons were twitchy and nervous around the devil, and the angels and vampires were distrustful and wary of each other at best. Apparently, a vampire drinking an angel’s blood would create a whole new abominable threat to contend with, and vampires knew angels were far more inclined to kill them in order to avoid this, so demons were paired with demons, and Benny was paired with Lenore. The two of them having hit it off in a way that made Dean wonder if it wasn’t leading to something else.

            Gabriel went with Michael. It never ceased to amaze Dean how much older and tired Gabriel suddenly looked when he was trying to help keep the peace in his family and diffuse any potentially bad situations. He couldn’t image the guy doing it for millenia unending.

            “C’mon, Cas,” Dean called, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “You’re with me.” He grinned at the other man as they pushed through the opening in the metal fence, holding the chain link out of the way for the former angel. “After being joined at the hip, I’m still not use to turning around and you not being there. Keep having to remember not to freak out.”

            Cas put a hand on his arm, forcing the hunter to look at him. “Dean, I know losing the members of your family is your greatest fear, but also know that were anything to happen to me, I’d cause such chaos in Heaven, they’d send me back just to have peace and quiet again.” Dean smiled fondly, eyes playing over the angel’s face even as he took in the building they were about to enter. “Do we have any idea what we are even looking for in there?”

Regarding the building as well, Dean admitted, “Not a clue. Something with a penchant for drowning its victims, or maybe just dumping them in the nearest body of water.” His eyes scanned the open windows of the second floor, large empty frames to let air into the sheet metal structure. “Ash ran the numbers and given where all the bodies keep washing up they are definitely coming from here, so this is either the scene of the crime or the drop spot.”

The broken door opened on creaking, rusted hinges, the bottom breaking with a loud crack and pop, sending the door off balance and pulling at the frame.

“Well that’s reassuring as to this place’s safety,” the hunter stated flatly.

“You saw the condemned signs on the fence, Dean.”

“Sarcasm, Cas.”

They flicked on their flashlights in the pitch darkness, hearing the overwhelming silence ring in their ears. Grit crunched underneath their boots. Sweeping his light in an arch, Dean searched the rafters overhead, the catwalks, and section of offices overhead. Nothing moved. His light dropped to the ground, at the untouched dirt and dust that covered everything in a thick layer.

“Well if whatever is here- it’s either not coming in through this door or not on foot. C’mon, let’s search the place.”

Nodding solemnly, together they moved further into the warehouse that smelled of oil, rust, and stagnant water.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Cas questioned, the circle of his light passing carefully over grates and a rat eaten tarp.

“Huh?”

“Back at Savvy’s, you said we needed to talk,” the shorter man reminded him. “This is the first moment we’ve actually had upon our return.” He looked to his right, his eyes finding Dean’s. “What do you need?”

 _You_ , was the answer that passed through Dean’s mind.

Looking away, Dean cleared his throat and continued forward. “Anytime a potential monster could come at me out of the shadows is not when I want to be distracted by serious conversation. We’ll talk later.”

“Today?” Cas pressed.

Just the thought of it sent Dean’s heart racing and he said nothing. After all, they were basically trying to set up an appointment for Dean to simply say “I love you”. Not that he was planning on just coming out and saying it like that. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was planning, just what he wanted, and that was for Cas to know the absolute truth and then to let the chips fall where they may.

How was he going to say it, anyway? Dean could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually said “I love you” in so many words. He’d never grown up saying it, or even hearing it, couldn’t say it to his mother when he’d met her, rarely said it to Sam who was the reason for Dean’s existence, and had never been able to say it to Lisa.

If he couldn’t say it to all of them, all of whom had no doubt he loved them, could he manage to say that one sentence to the only person Dean knew he couldn’t live without?

“What do we know of that drowns its victims?” he questioned, rather than answering.

“Kelpies were known for doing such when they existed, but they ate their victims, save for the heart and liver. Mermaids and sirens, of course-“

With a snort, Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he echoed, the satire probably lost on his companion.  _Mermaids_.

God, his life was weird.

He listened and commented as Cas continued to through a list of water-based creatures all prone to drowning their victims, many of which seemed much the same as the next. He also made several mental notes. One, don’t get bitten by a mermaid. It’s like a werewolf bite, and next thing you knew you’d be sporting a tail. Some mermaids were worse than others, some were like demons of the sea, soulless, cunning, and cruel and you would slowly become such if transformed.

There were offices upstairs and downstairs, a set of metal grate stairs bolted to the wall and leading to the second level. Without hesitation, Cas began to ascend the steps, the metal groaning under his weight in protest. The noise grew so great half-way up, it gave him curious pause, regarding the wall secures that strained against their bolts. Dean didn’t realize he’d completely frozen and was holding his breath until Cas moved to take another step up and the stairs shook a little.

“Cas, Cas,” he called quickly, holding up a hand to stop him, “don’t worry about the upstairs. Nothing got up this way at least. Those stairs aren’t gonna hold you, man.” He stood anxiously at the bottom.

As if to prove his point, the metal wall they were fastened to shuddered as Castiel turned back to him, one of the bolts breaking free and causing the whole staircase to jolt and shudder. Grabbing the hand railing, Cas steadied himself, feet planted and ready to throw himself forward.

“Perhaps we should just check the downstairs offices, then,” he offered, taking a step down and earning another shriek of metal.

Dean wasn’t sure if the stairs were going to pull free from the wall or if the wall was going to come away with the stairs. His gaze swept up to find the catwalk overhead shuddering and swaying.

“Cas, hurry up and get off that thing before it falls apart. Stick close to the wall.”

The angel descended the stairs a lot slower than he’d originally begun to climb them, one hand trailing the faded corn blue of the wall. “This was all so much easier when I was a being of celestial intent.”

“Living life through bullet proof glass, Cas,” Dean reminded him absently, as another bolt shot free from the wall and skittered across the cement floor.

When the other man’s feet finally touched the safety of solid ground, Dean felt like he could breathe again. “All good?”

Blue eyes trailed to what had probably been the main office, its windows overlooking the entire facility. “I certainly hope that room didn’t hold anything valuable like a nest.”

“If it did, we can get one of your siblings to zap up there and take a look.” He glanced around, spying a series of metal drums. “You go check out the downstairs offices. I’ll make sure all these containers aren’t carrying more bodies.”

Overhead, the enshadowed catwalk was creaking like an abandoned swing. Dean noted one of the support cables had broken free and dangled limply.

Nodding, they parted ways, Cas faltering by the door to look back at the blond. “What  _are_  we looking for exactly?”

“Dude, I have no idea. I’m hoping we know it when we see it, and that it doesn’t come armed with teeth and claws.” He eyed the rust covered oil drums he hoped were empty. “We may find nothing, so hopefully one of the other groups is more successful. If this place is a dump site and not a crime scene, we have no leads.”

“It would make sense that all of the victims came here, and were attacked and then disposed of. If the creature or whatever was able to lure them to water, it would be easy to kill the victim, and the city would tow off whatever abandoned vehicle was left behind.”

The metal door to the office stuck from disuse, and Cas had to tug on it before it’s rusted hinges gave way with loud protest that made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand on end. The creaking of the swaying catwalk and suspended walkways reminding Dean of haunted swing sets and ghost children they had faced in the past.

Using a crowbar he found, Dean began prying off the more stubborn lids, holding his breath each time he went to peer inside. Finding a victim would be bad, but if he found a child, it was always so much worse.

There was a loud creak, followed by a series of metallic pops, the whistling of cables breaking free and whipping through the air as the crisscross of metal pathways overhead came free. Metal groaned and crashed against each other as the dislocated stairs pulled away from the wall, their secures no longer holding it in place. It made the entire wall shake and groan, which made the catwalks more unstable, breaking free and collapsing in front of Dean’s eyes, his muscles locking into place. His eyes widened, mouth falling slack as he tried to draw in a breath, to yell a warning as beams, cables, and metal footpaths crashed down on the offices with Cas inside, the ceiling caving in.

There was screaming, the long horrified sound of the other man’s name ripped forcefully from Dean’s mouth. Dust and noise filled the air, deafening to Dean’s ears as it echoed and reverberated all around him.

He rushed forward, desperately searching for a way into the office, past the fallen support beams, wires, and structure.

“Cas!” he yelled, maybe for the first time, maybe for the tenth. The word was on repeat in his head, just as loud and terrified. “Cas! Say something!”

He stepped over an I-beam just as he heard coughing by the wall. Metal had collapsed, hitting the wall and the desk, lodging itself at an angle. He darted forward, under part of an air vent and some cables, toward the sound of a groan and the scrape of gravel. A hand appeared, waving weakly before disappearing again behind the fallen metal that had shielded him from the majority of the damage.

“I’m here,” he coughed, crawling out to collapse in a sitting position, his back against the wall, and one hand going to his temple. “I think I hit my head.”

Grabbing him, Dean hauled him to his feet, half dragging the other man from the office, the angel’s arm over his shoulder and Dean’s wrapped tight around his waist, getting him out from under the unsteady debris before it dislodged and crashed in on itself further, crushing them. They were both panting by the time Dean set Cas down again, his back against one of the empty drums. There was a knot already forming on his temple, the area purple and red, making Cas hiss with pain when he placed his hand over it again. Dean was looking him over frantically.

“Is that all? Does anything else hurt? How many fingers?”

The angel seemed slightly dazed from the blow to his head, shaking his head as though to focus his thoughts. “Wha-? Three. Why-” He cradled his head again.

Dean batted the angel’s hand to the side, gently carding his fingers through his hair looking for gashes or bumps or anything imbedded that shock or adrenaline where keeping the angel from feeling. Sudden clarity hit Cas then and his eyes widened, hands coming up to blindly grab at Dean’s chest, fingers patting him down. “Dean! Are  _you_  okay? Were you-”

He didn’t more out than that, because Dean was suddenly kissing him in relief, the hands cradling his crown and jaw trembling. Castiel clutched at his shirt, kissing back just as frantically, pulling the hunter in closer, muscles feeling light suddenly, even though he could feel himself shaking from adrenaline.

Dean broke the kiss, eyes still terrified and searching Cas’ face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Cas promised.

“Nothing else hurts?”

“I’m  _fine_ , Dean.”

The hunter sagged, a huff of breath leaving his body in what sounded like “Thank God” before his mouth was on Cas’ again, frantically devouring the angel’s mouth.

Clamoring footsteps came pounding into the building then, Sam’s voice yelling out, “Dean!” all panicked and desperate broke them apart. Twisting, Dean raised one arm to shield his eyes from all the lights suddenly directed at him, his other hand still clutched tight at Castiel.

“We’re okay,” he called out, even as Sam surged forward to fall to his knees by them, hazel eyes scanning them both for injuries, hands restless in the air. Dean pulled away from Cas, showing his brother both his open palms and lowering his tone. “We’re okay,” he promised.

Breathing heavily, Sam shook his head, pulling Dean to his feet by his elbow. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”

Reaching down, Dean helped Cas to his feet just as Lucifer and Gabriel stepped closer, the shorter angel whistling at the half collapsed building.

Lucifer’s gaze studied Castiel clinically, two fingers brushing against his temple as he spoke. “Congratulations, brother. You’ve had your first concussion.”

“I’m fine,” Cas assured him.

The rest of the offices collapsed in on themselves then, the small group of hunters and angels turning to watch as the roof fully caved in, and everything inside was flattened under the weight of it. His two angelic brothers slowly turned their heads and regarded him with identical arched brows.

The dark hair man looked over at the elder Winchester. “I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been here to get me out, though.”

Snorting, Dean ran a hand through his hair, fighting back the idea of Cas being still in the office when it all came down, of being crushed underneath it.

“I don’t even want to think about what would have happened had I not been here.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Knew he would not survive something like that. He looked back at the door just as others came running in, a few people just appearing in empty air. Gabriel quickly assured them all everyone was fine.

“Well, we found nothing,” he said, gaze scanning the different teams. “Anybody else come up with something helpful?”

Adjusting his cap, Benny nodded toward the back of the warehouse. “We should probably check the back of the buildings, closer to the water.” His gaze met Dean’s. “What I know of that likes to drown folks, can’t get too far from the place it calls home.”

“You think this might be something you’re familiar with?”

“I think it’s something none of you are familiar with,” offered the vampire. “Which means it’s probably something from my neighborhood, yeah.” He rolled his head. “Way I’ve heard tell, all kinds of things like me- and worse- are slipping through the cracks from Purgatory. Word of advice? Don’t fall in the water if you need air to survive.”

Arms folded, Michael gave a nod. “Understood. We find anything: humans stand down.”

It amazed Dean how his first instinct was always to obey when Michael gave an order, though not because it was Michael, but because it looked like John, albeit younger, but still his father.

“We have ranged weapons,” Dean interjected. “We can offer second line defense and support.”

Their gazes met. “Very well,” the archangel said finally. “But stay away from the water.”

As their group moved to the back of the building, Cas’ hand slipped into Dean’s, giving it a squeeze as Dean looked at him in surprise, before a soft smile curled his lips, green eyes warm as they found Cas’. Dean gave his hand a squeeze in return before their grips fell away. Looking forward, Dean found Sam’s eyes on them as he held the door open, waiting. He was grinning.

“Alright, you lovebirds,” he teased, if possible, grinning even wider and making Dean roll his eyes, “Focus on the case. You can make-out later.”

“We will,” Cas assured him primly, and stepped past him outside.

A snort of surprise escaped the taller man, his eyes dancing as they landed on his brother again. “Should I start planning the wedding for June, Dean?”

“Sure. Put yourself down as the flower girl.”

His brother laughed behind them, releasing the door that wouldn’t quite shut.

The area behind the warehouses was made somehow even darker by the inky river swirling with a steady current. There were a series of docks and boat slips all along the concrete wall behind the warehouses. Dean looked over to the side and saw the barge docking station, and several fuel docks.

Sam looked at the angels and demons. “You guys picking up anything?”

“Just a bad feeling,” someone said.

Nodding, Dean pointed to the old barge still in the docking bay. “Alright. Let’s split up and check the boats. Y’all check that one, we’ll check these out.”

There looked to be an old, ramshackle house boat tied up to the dock, along with a small shrimping boat, its nets ragged and torn.

Michael seemed intent to stay with the group at the docks, so Lucifer went to the barge. The docks creaked underfoot, the wooden boards warped with age and moisture. The water lapped against the cement wall steadily, the air near the water cooler, ruffling Sam and Gabriel’s hair as the evening breeze swept through. Reaching one of the boats, Michael held up a hand, casting only the briefest of glances toward the humans.

“Stay here. The floor is weak in spots.” He vanished.

There was a thud of boots and a splashing of water as the others jumped into the fishing vessel, making it bob in its slip. Gabriel stayed on the dock, eyes scanning the expanse of the river, while Dean let his gaze wander to the barge in case anything happened over there.

From beneath the dock, something as black as the water shot out, wrapping tight around Sam’s ankle before pulling taunt and yanking him off balance, clean off his feet and down hard onto the dock with a cry of alarm. He scrambled for purchase on the water soaked boards, feeling as the hold on his leg gave another harsh pull. Only Gabriel grabbing his arms kept Sam on the dock.

“Easy there, Sam,” he said, face uncharacteristically grim as whatever was in the water tugged again at the hunter’s leg. “What did we say about swimming, kiddo?”

“Wait thirty minutes,” Sam grunted, fingers locking around the archangel’s forearms.

Gun out, Dean pointed it at where the black cord emerged from the water, firing off several shots, knowing he hit something when Sam shot forward, knocking Gabriel back with his sudden release. The hunter hurriedly moved to get the rope from around his ankle, before his expression morphed into horror.

“It’s  _hair_ ,” he exclaimed, casting it away and back into the water. “It’s made from hair.”

The top of a head rose out of the water just as Michael came back out of the houseboat, expression hard. Dark eyes in a pale face peered up at them, more pale features and a mouth filled with jagged teeth exposed as the creature rose out of the water to her shoulders, long black hair dancing on the water’s surface in tendrils, curling and coiling and grasping- grasping at  _them_.

“River witch,” whispered Cas, sounding more horrified than Dean was comfortable with.

It made him fire a shot at her instinctively, her pale face snapping back sharply as the bullet caught her in the forehead. She fell back, a flash of limbs and pale, naked flesh exposed as she fell back beneath the black water.

She reappeared a moment later, forehead a spider web of black cracks that slowly healed themselves, the bullet expelled from her skull to fall in the water with a small plop as she hissed and more faces immerged from the water. The river began to churn more violently, their hair alive and ever reaching, their bodies weaving back and forth like snakes ready to strike.

“Get away from the water,” ordered Dean, grabbing Sam and pushing him behind him, off the dock and toward land. A river witch quickly scaled a pillar, climbing hand over hand until she pulled herself up onto the dock, blocking Dean and Cas from the safety of shore.

Her long tail -as black as her hair- whipped excitedly; her back fin flaring in threat as she hissed. Nails digging in to the wood of the dock, she shot forward with alarming speed, using her bottom half to slither like a serpent, her hands pulling one after the other. Dean was shoving Castiel back, both of them back pedaling as shouts went up and weapons were fired.

Another witch was climbing the wall, body half out of the water, and trying to get to Sam. More of her hair already wrapped around his ankle, her free hand reaching for him as her tail slapped against cement and tried to find purchase in pulling her body the rest of the way over the wall. The younger hunter couldn’t fire off his shotgun without risking hitting the people on the dock, and instead aimed the barrel at the hair and pulled the trigger.

Gabriel appeared behind the advancing witch on the docks and drove his sword through her chest. With a sniper’s accuracy, Michael threw his blade at the other witch, a flash of silver embedding itself in her throat as she finally came over the ledge with a snarl of delight.  Her body slumped dead to the ground inches before she reached Sam. The weapon appeared back in Michael’s hand a moment later as the others from the barge came running.

At the death of two of their sisters, the river witches became incensed, writhing and hissing madly, diving back under the water only to come sailing out of it later, Cas tackling Dean to the ground as one of the their wet bodies sailed overhead, arms outstretched to take one of her victims down with her.

Grabbing Cas’ jacket, Dean shoved him forward. “Go, go, go!”

Benny and Lenore ran faster than the others, not even pausing as they reached the dock, and simply dove headlong into the water, both wielding a machete. The angels followed suit a moment later, a cry of objection ripping from the three men’s mouths as their allies disappeared beneath the frothing water. Even with all the water, the smell of blood permeated the air as the battle became a literal bloodbath with no clear idea who was winning. Black tails and pale limbs occasionally broke the surface, a river witch shooting up out of the fray to dive back in. That none of their allies ever broke the surface made Dean scramble to get his feet beneath him again, darting forward to find some way to help- there  _had_ to be a way they could help, only to have Meg throw herself in front of him, using her small frame to hold him back.

“Stay away from the water, Dean-o,” she warned, the usual lilt to her cadence gone, black eyes fixed on the violently churning water that was a frenzy of inky tails coiling over one another. Too many. More than had shown themselves above the surface.

“What can we do?” he demanded, searching for any sign of one of their people.

“Exactly nothing,” she snapped. “They’re fighting a battle that requires the ability to  _not breathe_. Even  _I_  need air. We do nothing!”

The bubbling and writhing water began to slow to a less violent churning, waves splashing against the wall and the pillars until the fight beneath the waves seemed to have ebbed to its conclusion and the current return the water surface to its normal stream.

“I don’t see anyone,” announced Sam, voice strained. “Dean?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” he snapped back, gaze frantically searching the water’s surface. “Cas?”

The angel shook his head frantically, frightened eyes turning to the two hunters. Meg’s shoulders slumped, expression blank and eyes unfocused as she watched the water.

Suddenly several heads broke the surface with a sharp intake of air. Meg darted forward to give Lenore a hand out of the water, while Dean and Cas reached for Benny. The angels all appeared on land, soaked to the bone as they coughed and retched up water. Sam let out a relieved exaltation, before darting forward to see if everyone was alright, head darting back and forth as he tried to do a headcount of everyone present.

Both vampires had various bite marks on them, even a few spots where it looked as though a river witch had taken a chunk out of them with their teeth. Lenore and Benny both found the irony amusing, even while they winced and groaned in pain, until a drenched Gabriel came over and brushed his fingers against their temples.

Doing another headcount, Dean looked back at the now calm river. “So is that it? Case closed? Monster defeated?”

With the toe of her boot, Meg kicked one of the river witchs’ head toward him. “If no more bodies float down river?” She shrugged, sliding her hands in her pockets. “I think we’re done here. Unless you wanna take one of these babies home to Bobby as a souvenir.”

He sneered at the disembodied head and turned toward the angels, his voice sounding tired when he spoke. “Pass. You’re welcome to it, if you like, Meg, but I just want to be home.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

As soon as their entire group finished a final walk-through of the warehouses and teleported back to Bobby’s, Dean stalked inside, completely bypassing Savvy and Becky with only a wave of greeting before he was climbing upstairs, pulling Cas along behind him by the wrist. His expression must have looked pretty severe, because everyone they passed just stepped out of the way.

Pulling the other man into their room, Dean shut the door and backed the angel up against it, taking the Cas’ face in his hands, eyes searching.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

Worried eyes softened and warmed, one hand coming up to grip the cuff of Dean’s sleeve. “I’m fine, Dean. My brother made sure of it. I’m not hurt.”

Leaning forward, Dean closed the space between them and kissed Cas gently, leftover adrenaline and relief making him shake, his heart hammering in his chest. The other man’s mouth moved against his, and Dean could feel Castiel’s assurances washing over him like a caress, as gentle as the hands that smoothed over his shirt and fell to his waist, thumb rubbing at Dean’s skin through the cotton material, a gentle tug pulling Dean’s body closer.

The hunter was nearly light-headed with the realization that this was happening, that he was kissing Cas, and the angel was kissing him back in return, and that  _this_ … this was something he could  _have_.

Breaking their mouths apart, Dean forced his eyes open, swallowing thickly as those impossibly blue eyes fluttered open to regard him, the angel’s mouth kiss pink and inviting.

“I love you.”

A soft smile. “I know. I love you, too.”

Dipping his head, Dean allowed himself one last kiss, then another, before forcing himself away, trying to calm the pounding of his heart that surely everyone in the house had to be able to hear, especially Cas.

“C’mon. We’re needed for debriefing downstairs.”

Re-opening the door, Cas waved him through it, smiling to himself as their hands found each other, the stoic hunter giving his a squeeze.

Downstairs, they discovered that the debriefing had been postponed until morning. The girls all milling around in their pajamas in the kitchen to have breakfast at midnight had persuaded the returning soldiers to join them, an assembly line of bowls and different cereals somehow coming into existence.

As Dean and Cas drew closer, they saw everybody was in their pajamas, even Lucifer, which was just freaking weird, you ask Dean. He took in the red shirt, gray sweats, and socked feet before looking up to find the devil regarding him with a brow raised in question.

“You own pajamas?” he wondered.

Because, this was the devil, and the devil dressed like a normal guy would never stop being weird for Dean, even more so to see him in something he was pretty sure was Sam’s.

The blond gave a slight roll of his eyes and gestured vaguely toward his brother, just as the shorter man spied them. Gabriel took in their appearance and promptly snapped his fingers, changing their clothes, before handing them bowls for cereal as well.

Which was how angels, demons, vampires, and hunters officially celebrated their unlikely, yet successful teamwork: dressed in pajamas and having breakfast at midnight. Dean thought about making it a tradition.

Looking around the table and then the entire room, Dean glanced at the angels. “Where’s Michael?”

They all looked at Lucifer, who pointedly ignored the question and continued idly stirring his cereal overloaded with brown sugar and cinnamon.

Gabriel waved carelessly, obvious in his nonchalance. “Oh, y’know, too cool to hang out at the kid table.”

His brother did look up then, meeting his gaze across the table before his unsettling gaze drifted down the table to the Winchesters.

“If I’m in the room, chances are he won’t be,” he admitted, tone low and carefully casual.

Which earned Dean a sharp jab in the ribs from Sam, followed by a significant look and head jerk toward the stairs. His elder brother glared and kicked his shin under the table.

As if to prove them all wrong, or maybe because he was using angel telepathy and knew he was the topic of discussion, Michael came down the stairs.

“Oi, Michael,” Jo called out. The archangel spared her a glance in question. She tapped the edge of her bowl with her spoon. “Go fix yourself a bowl. Come sit down.”

The dark haired man opened his mouth and Sam cut him off, “Before you remind us you don’t need to eat, let me say that that’s not the point.”

Michael glanced at Gabriel, who snapped his fingers, causing another bowl of cereal to appear, just as Anna scooted over on the bench to make room. With obvious reserve, he took the offered seat that unfortunately placed him directly across the table from Lucifer. Michael’s hard eyes fixed on the blond, who offered him only a glance and nod as the tension in the room gradually rose by increments.

Leaning forward from her end of the table, Meg called out, “Hey, Dean-o, do you wanna tell the story of that time you dressed like a hooker and got locked in a dog kennel, or should I?”

Dean was pretty sure everyone at the table, angels included, choked on their breakfast. A flush of embarrassment quickly began coloring his face, turning even the tips of his ears red.

“I was not dressed like a hooker!” he exclaimed as Sam threw his head back laughing.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh? I guess I didn’t save yours and Sam’s lives either.”

“No, you didn’t,” he insisted, glaring down the table. “You showed up at the  _end_  of the fight to begin with, so how’d you even know about the dog kennel?”

Ignoring the question, Meg launched into the story, obviously trying to diffuse the high tension that had overshadowed the room. “Okay, so Dean here is rocking a sex change-“

“Which is not what it sounds like!” Sam was really in danger of hurting himself laughing. Savvy and Becky were both patting Jo on the back as she coughed and sputtered. “And Gabriella’s fault!”

“You asked for my help,” the half-angel threw back, “and I told you the price was equal inconvenience! That was inconvenient.”

Cas leaned forward. “No, inconvenient was running from the cops in the rain and getting arrested before we ever started the job we were working.”

The elder Winchester was burying his face in his hands. “Oh God, please don’t tell that story either. Both are bad. Let’s pretend neither happened.” Meg was still telling her version of the story, to which Dean pointed at her. “Stop lying!”

She produced her phone from somewhere, waggling it. “I have pictures to prove you were a girl, Dean.”

“Oh, oh!” Charlie exclaimed, breaking out her own phone. “Me too!”

“Oh God, I hate you all.”

“You were pretty!”

“We are not talking about this! Give me that phone!”

“What are we not talking about?” Sarah asked sleepily, coming downstairs and taking a seat next to Sam, her head resting on his shoulder.

“When Dean was a girl.”

Her face lit up, head swiveling to regard Dean. “Oh yeah, you were  _gorgeous_. Gonna kinda miss it.”

“Dean’s always gorgeous,” stated Cas, looking at the picture on Charlie’s phone, then up in surprise when everyone fell silent. He glanced around, then worriedly at Dean. “I’m allowed to say that now, aren’t I?”

Grinning, the hunter leaned in and stole a kiss, the two of them smiling against each other’s mouths as cat calls and whistles sounded around them.

For the first time, Michael’s expression morphed into one of shock, while his siblings just all chuckled and shook their heads. No one even paid the eldest archangel any mind as his demeanor grew closed off and stony again, gaze sweeping around the group of enemies that were actually getting along, while he couldn’t even fathom how it was possible. Placing his hands on the table to stand, he was stopped as Anna’s hand snapped out, fingers curling tight around his wrist. He looked at her and she glared. Setting his jaw, Michael begrudgingly stayed where he was and her hand fell away, even as he glowered at the wood grain in the table top, fists white-knuckling on his thighs under the table.

“So what happened?” Lenore asked Meg, and Dean waved a hand.

“No, no, no! She’s not telling it right.” Everyone looked at him and he sighed, willing to do whatever it took to keep tension from rising. “Okay, here’s what happened… I’d been turned into a girl as payment for having Gabriella help us find Chuck, since Heaven misplaced him- good job with that, guys. Way to keep tabs on employees. Anyway, so I’m currently a girl, and after Sam here gives me this big long speech about that if Cas ever ended up changing vessels to a woman, we could not take advantage of that on cases, right? Exact rules: Do not take advantage of or blatantly hit on. No mini-skirts, push-up bras, or half-button blouses, right? Because we would totally have teased him at least a little, but then after he was the one setting down the ‘no teasing or taking advantage’ rules,  _this jerk_  turns around and makes  _me_  play  _bait_!”

Laughter all around the table, even while Sam defended himself, “There was no one else and they were only targeting women-“

“So he has me wandering  _all over_  downtown looking like a completely lost tourist- this is his idea of  _strategy_ now- while he’s sitting comfortable at a café and stalking my location from his computer. Oh no, it gets better! That’s not half of it! So, then I get tazered into unconsciousness only to wake up in a  _cage_ -“

“I wouldn’t know anything about what that’s like,” Lucifer commented drily, corner of his mouth twitching in an attempt not to smirk.

Dean held out a hand. “No, you don’t understand. I was in a dog kennel, a freaking pet transporter, I kid you not. I mean, fine, I was bait, it was part of the plan to get caught. Sam’s got my back, right?  _No_. I look over to see  _this_  jerk chained to a pillar. My  _backup_. So not only do I have to get us both out of this mess, with some seriously stupid demons trying to sacrifice me to a god of harvest- weren’t they, Sam? Then, Sam here is all ‘there are only three of them, Dean, we can take them’.  _No_ ,” he said again, with a dramatic shake of his head, almost everyone around the table cackling, and Sam blushing in embarrassment. “Genius here not only sucks as backup, but apparently can’t count either, because we go to get the drop on them and how many demons were there, Sam? It was a couple more than three, right?”

“There were fifteen-“ Sam snickered.

“ _Fifteen_!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand on the table. Savvy had her face buried in her folded arms on the table, practically convulsing with laughter. “And while we had the situation completely  _under control_  was when Meg showed up, realized the blonde chick was me, and  _promptly_ suggested we sleep together-“

“I did, actually,” she admitted, laughing richly.

“-before killing the demon we needed to question and blackmailing us into buying her lunch!”

“I did that, too.”

Balthazar had his chin in hand and was shaking his head in disbelief. “How in the world did you ever manage to stay alive this long?”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“We’re too pretty to die,” said Dean, grinning at his brother.

“What was that about you and Cas getting arrested?” Anna questioned, making Dean bury his face in his hands, before meeting Cas’ eyes and launching into the tale.

 

 

Bobby’s house became a hive of activity on all floors in the following days. In-between missions when everyone was home together, people were always coming and going from different floors and rooms, or congregating in different areas. Sam liked it, actually. It reminded him of the Weasley’s and the Burrow. He’d told Sarah as much, which made her green eyes shift around the common area on the third floor where they were watching Savvy’s _Supernatural_ season eight DVDs with a mishmash of allies.

When Savvy had come with them into their world, one of the bags she’d brought had been what she called her ‘hurricane evacuation’ bag, and basically contained all her favorite television boxsets and an external hard drive packed full of movies, many of which wouldn’t even exist for several years in their timeline. Her _Supernatural_ boxsets were the biggest hit at the moment.

Savvy was perched on the arm of the couch and Becky sat beside her, head resting on the other girl’s denim clad thigh. Meg and Anna were sharing popcorn, while Benny kept demanding how he was even in the show. They all seemed to find seeing themselves on screen bizarrely fascinating, to the point, their earlier unease around each other was completely forgotten in favor of them all watching another universe’s version of the future play out on screen.

            Beside him, Sarah laughed and nodded. “You’re right. This is the Burrow and House unity to the extreme.”

            Eyes on the television screen a few more minutes, Sam finally shook his head and pushed to his feet. “I can’t watch this. It’s too weird and creepy.”

            Checking her watching, Sarah stood as well. “I’m due for weapons training soon anyway. I’ll go with you.”

            As they stepped into the hall, Sam pointed back behind them. “That’s not weird for you? Seeing me on TV? Except, not me?”

            She waved dismissively. “None of that ever happened, right? It’s not weird. I think it’s interesting the ideas other people came up with of what your lives could turn out to be. And that you, your brother, and Cas- and well, all of us actually, always end up finding each other and being in each other’s lives no matter what world we’re born into. That these people all became actors and ended up portraying our lives. Or that in any other alternate universe, the three of you find each other and save the world again. I like it. And what I’ve seen of the show is really interesting.”

            “Savvy says you die in season eight.”

            “I never said it was perfect,” she said, holding up an index finger, “very inaccurate, and bad writing on that particular subject, but I still like it.”

            Sam’s chuckle died on his lips as a very cross looking Michael appeared at the foot of the steps leading from upstairs, trailed by a disgruntled looking Gabriel. The shorter angel’s expression closed off suddenly, golden eyes flicking to Michael as the archangel stopped in the middle of the hallway, glare leveled directly on Sam. Though there were a few yards between them, Sam could feel the presence of the angel, stretching and filling the hall, pulsing with anger and tension, making the hunter feel crowded and claustrophobic.

            “You,” Michael snarled lowly. The accusation in the word made Sam swallow thickly, one hand reaching out to push Sarah behind him as the archangel’s gaze flicked to her and then to the common area and back again. “Winchester or not, isn’t your place with the demons as well?”

            Gabriel flinched, one hand rubbing over his face. “Michael… don’t do this, brother.”

           Anna materialized by Gabriel’s side then, eyes flicking over the scene in front of her. “What’s going on?” she questioned cautiously.

            “C’mon, Michael,” insisted the blond. “Let’s go see what Ellen and Bobby have come up with using the scroll we brought back.”

            “That  _we_  brought back,” echoed Michael, sneering as his eyes raked over the younger Winchester, whose heart was slamming rapidly against his ribs in panic. “Yet we’re the one being used as mere tools, while the lesser and the  _tainted_  give us orders.”

            Sam saw the moment Michael made his decision, saw the disgust resolve into something hard and determined, his jaw setting as he lifted one outstretched hand, fingers spread and palm directed at Sam. There was a cry of alarm, Michael suddenly glowing with angelic power as Sam threw up a protective arm, eyes squeezed shut, as if that would help. Sarah hid her face in the material of his shirt at his back. Then, the whole house seemed to shake with the power of the blast the archangel released at Sam Winchester, the air crackling with tension and power.

            In the flash of blinding holy light, dark wings flared wide across the walls and ceiling, the rustle of feathers almost like thunder in the enclosed space as Lucifer appeared between them, taking the full impact of the blast with his forearms crossed and head ducked, the power hitting him causing the soles of his sneakers to slide against the wood floor beneath his feet until he stopped not even a foot away from where Sam and Sarah were bracing themselves for death.

            Dangerous blue eyes flared open, glaring as Lucifer straightened out of his stance to stand at full height, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he lowered his arms to his sides, hands balled into fists. Smoke was curling off of his arms where he had absorbed the impact of his brother’s attack, and Sam could only stare, brain unable to fully register what had just happened. His horrified gaze jerked past Michael as Dean and Cas charged up the stairs, sliding to a stop and paling as they caught sight of the scene unfolding.

            Nobody dared even breathe.

            Seconds stretched. The stand-off was finally broken when Michael let out a soft snort, turned and walked away, past Dean and Cas, and down the stairs. For a long moment, no one dared _move_ , then everything seemed to unfreeze, Gabriel and Anna both darted after Michael, as Lucifer’s shoulders sagged and he sighed.

            “What the hell just happened?” Dean demanded angrily, storming forward.

            Ignoring him, Lucifer pivoted and looked Sam over before meeting his eyes in question. The auburn haired man nodded his assurance that he was okay. The fallen angel gave a curt nod in return and vanished in a flutter of wings.

            Sam’s breath came out in a rush just as his brother reached him, grabbing Sam’s shoulders and demanding answers. Behind them, Benny whistled and Meg shook her head, moving back over to take her previous seat.

            “I hope you all realize how close we just came to being particles floating in space and thank your lucky stars we didn’t.”

            Gabriel reappeared, looking up and down the hall, then at Sam. “Are you okay?” A nod. “Where’s Luce?”

            The taller male shook his head, not even caring he was shaking. “Flew off. Where’s Michael?”

            Snorting, Gabriel made a vague gesture. “Getting yelled at by Anna.”

            “Did I not tell you Michael was out to get Lucifer?” demanded Dean. “He totally set him up with the zombies! I  _told_  you!”

            “He wasn’t attacking Lucifer, Dean,” said Sam, making his brother and the angel beside him look up sharply. “He attacked  _us,_  and Lucifer appeared out of- out of  _nowhere_  to take the hit.”

            “It was hot,” Meg called out.

            Savvy nodded in agreement. “It was kinda hot.”

            “Totally badass,” chimed Becky, head bobbing.

            Dean looked back at Sam, face gone so pale his freckles stood out sharply, making his younger brother pat his own chest. “I’m fine, Dean, look, see?”

            The elder Winchester whirled on a weary looking Gabriel. “Archangel or not, I am going to _kick his ass_.  _Where is he?”_

            “The  _hell_  happened up here?” Bobby roared, clamoring up the stairs armed with both the Colt and his angel gun, and looking more than ready to start firing both.

            Opening his mouth, Dean was cut off when Gabriel snapped his fingers, causing no sound to pass the hunter’s lips.

            “It was just a misunderstanding, Bobby,” Gabriel said placatingly, making Dean turn to him, lips forming the word ‘misunderstanding’ with obvious indignance. The blond regarded him, looking so ancient and tired it caught the hunter off guard, quelling some of his anger. “We’re handling the situation. Please let us.” Cas placed a hand on Dean’s arm. Relenting, but clearly not happy to do so, Dean folded his arms angrily, jerking his gaze away to glare at the wallpaper with a snort. Gabriel nodded his thanks. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my other brother.”

            He disappeared.

            That was when Lisa eased down the stairs from the higher floors, looking around cautiously. “Is everything okay down here?” she asked, taking in all the faces.

            Wiping a hand over his face, Dean pointed to his ex-girlfriend. “We are definitely moving you and Ben to a floor that doesn’t have all the angels on it,” he said, looking over at Becky, who was already pulling out her iPad.

            “Uh, okay. Right. I’ll talk to Gabriella and have her add an extra room to the third floor for you and Ben.”

            “Where is Ben?” Dean asked worriedly.

            The dark haired woman motioned over her shoulder. “Upstairs doing homework.”

            He looked to Becky, and she saluted. “On it! Give me five minutes.” She turned and headed downstairs as well, pulling her phone out as she did so.

            Looping her arm through Lisa’s, Sarah began leading the other woman toward the steps. “C’mon. I suddenly have a desperate urge for weapon’s training. Shooting or stabbing things will make me feel better, like I stand more of a chance of not getting squashed like bug. We’ll both get in some training on wielding an angel blade, shall we?”

            Casting a brief glance over her shoulder back at Dean, Lisa could be heard asking, “What  _happened_?” as they disappeared downstairs.

            Slipping his hand into Dean’s, Cas rubbed his free hand over the hunter’s forearm. The blond’s dark expression softened slightly as he regarded the other man.

            “Come, Dean. There are punching bags and workout equipment in the warehouse to take your frustration out on. Let my siblings deal with the situation.”

            “Oh, like they handled it so well the first time around?” he snapped back, vein in his neck throbbing, and face going red with anger now.

            Cas shook his head. “Michael was clearly only trying to provoke Lucifer,” he said calmly. “And Lucifer did not rise to meet the challenge. He protected Sam as his, but did not retaliate.”

            “His?!” both Winchesters squawked.

            Blue eyes shifted between them, landing on Sam. “Yes. Lucifer has his own code he lives by. No one is allowed to hurt what he considers his, except for him, whether it be  _his_  family, or  _his_  vessel. Lucifer has claimed you as his, and won’t allow even Michael to hurt you.”

            “Also hot,” Meg called out again.

            Glowering toward the common area, Dean threw up and hand and turned to walk away, pausing to point at his brother.

            “Messed up as his loyalty or whatever is, you go  _find_  Lucifer and thank him in every language you speak, understand? Tell him I owe him a bottle of the good stuff.”

            Chuckling, Sam waved him off. “I’ll make sure he knows we’re grateful for his actions. Go beat up a punching bag. I’m gonna go for a run.”

            “You do your thing, Lance Armstrong.”

            Head falling back to regard the ceiling, Sam called out, “That’s biking, Dean.”

            While Dean went to beat up punching bags and spar with anyone willing in order to work off his frustration, Sam ran, Savvy asking if she could go with him.

            Though he really would have preferred to be alone in the aftermath of whatever cockfight just went down at the house, he also was grateful for the concern. And though they were together, Sam was left alone with his own thoughts, ear buds in and music blasting as they ran. Savvy had booted up her ‘Zombies, Run!’ app and dove into her own exercise, red ear buds in as they ran, but essentially ignored the other save to match their paces.

            They ran three miles easy, making it almost to the Sheriff’s department in town without really working up a sweat. Sam paused at the corner of main street, hands on his knees to catch his breath, more frustrated that he wasn’t losing himself in this run like he had wanted, wasn’t zoning out, wasn’t getting rid of the anger he felt.

            Savvy caught her breath a moment, then restlessly began jogging in place. “C’mon, Sam, hurry up. We gotta go. I’ve got zombies on my ass and we have to move. We’re surrounded and we have to run- and we need to run faster.  _Now_!” He looked at her as she glanced around wildly, like she were really anticipating an attack by the walking dead. It made him wonder if the sound effects feeding into her ears grew louder as the zombies gained on her. “Come on!” she hissed again, making him chuckle and nod, both of them taking off at a faster clip this time around.

            Occasionally she would announce when apparently they happened across supplies, and when it was okay for them to slow to a jog rather than the run they were maintaining, voicing whatever the game was telling her in her ears as they set about their reconnaissance. The town and then country roads around them melted as Savvy relayed what was coming through her ear piece, what their surroundings were in the game as their mission changed due to zombies they stumbled across or complications in the story.

            “What are we gonna do with these supplies we keep picking up?” he huffed.

            “Fortify our base and help survivors,” she snapped back. “Obviously. Second part of the app. Build your base, whatever, but you can’t do it unless you get supplies, which you can’t get unless you run. It’s like being in a videogame.” She panted a moment, trying to catch her breath to speak. “You should play at night. All my best times ever. Aw, crap, zombie herd. Speed up!”

            He barely managed a weak chuckle before he quickened his pace to keep up with her. Her pony tail was now tied up in a messy white bun, the back of her sweatshirt dark with sweat. She’d offered him an extra ponytail holder for his own hair, letting him pull the wet strands away from his face.

            By the time they got back to the house, they were both panting and exhausted. They did stretches on the porch while they cooled down. Wordlessly, Ellen came out and handed them both blessedly cool bottles of water that they chugged down, while she frowned and shook her head, warning them not to overdo it before the actual zombies showed up. They both grinned at the other, high on adrenaline and endorphins.

            Ellen nudged him with her foot and Sam looked up at the woman who had become the closest thing to a maternal figure he had. She hooked her chin in the direction of an old Camaro. He followed her gaze and saw Lucifer sitting on the back of it, looking off into the distance.

            “Way I hear tell,” Ellen said, “you owe someone a ‘thank you’ and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” He rose and looked down at her, she nodded in the angel’s direction. “Get to it.”

            Pushing herself to her feet, Savvy dusted off her bottom. “Well, I’m going inside and getting a shower. Tell Lucifer not to start avoiding everyone just because his brother’s a jerk.”

            The screen door slammed behind them as Sam descended the stairs and crossed the yard toward the neglected classic car with an angel perched on the back of it.

            The blond glanced over at the sound of Sam’s approached, then returned his gaze to the forest surrounding Bobby’s.

            “Uh, hey,” greeted the hunter awkwardly, realizing suddenly that he and Lucifer had never actually had a conversation since he’d been released from the cage, and that Sam wasn’t really sure how to talk to him. Blue eyes shifted their focus to him and he swallowed, stopping a few feet away. His tongue darted out over his bottom lip, the archangel’s eyes following the nervous gesture. “I just wanted to say thank you,” Sam began, hooking his thumb toward the house, “for what you did. I don’t know what Michael’s deal is, but we’d have died had you not intervened.”

            “I’m sure my father would have revived you once again,” he replied coolly, gaze sliding away.

            “But you still did what you did, which pitted you against Michael again.”

            Lucifer’s eyes flashed, the blue like frozen ice. “Like it or not, you are  _mine_ , Sam, and nobody, not even Michael is allowed to hurt what is mine.”

            Rather than be offended by the claim of ownership, in whatever form, Sam smirked at him. “‘Nobody dicks with Michael but me,’ huh?”

            The fallen angel looked away, shrugging. “He’s my brother. I love him and hate him in equal measure. I would just as quickly shield Michael from Dean if I felt he were threatened."

            Chuckling, Sam looked down at his shoes, kicking idly at a rock. “Yeah, and I thought me and Dean had a complicated relationship.”

            “You’re brothers,” Lucifer replied. “It’s not complicated, just intense.” They looked at each other again. “You forget how much you and I are the same, Sam.”

            The hunter shook his head. “No, actually, I don’t,” he admitted softly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he was forced to break eye contact. “Just like you’ve claimed me, Dean and I adopt people all the time. Sarah is the sister I never had, Charlie is Dean’s, we both found best friends in them. Then with Cas, we claimed him as one of our own a long time ago. Same for Ellen and Jo, or maybe they claimed us first, I dunno.”

            Lucifer quirked a brow. “Are you saying we’re family, Sam?”

            Flushing darker, the taller male shook his head. “No… but I think we could be friends.” The angel blinked in surprise, straightening a little at the sincerity in the other man’s voice, clearly not having been expecting that. Licking his bottom lip, Sam brushed a stray strand of hair back behind his ear, jerking his head back toward Bobby’s. “Uh, I better go get a shower. I just wanted to say ‘thank you’, and for you to know I mean it.”

            Their eyes met again, blue studying him in a way that made a shiver run down Sam’s spine, before a soft smile graced the fallen angel’s lips.

            “You’re welcome… Sam.”

            Returning his smile, the younger Winchester stuffed his hands into his pockets, turned on his heel, and headed for the house.

 

 

Though he liked to ignore it, Dean had noticed the increased number of people congregating together on the third floor in the common room. He had no problem with everyone getting along, was all for that, but the bonding activity of choice had him questioning whether or not it had been such a great idea after all.

Once training and missions were over, the group that seemed to be forever growing in number was piled together in the room to watch television together. Dean would have preferred _Doctor Sexy_ , because that was quality entertainment, but try telling _them_ that. He assumed it had to be some sort of morbid curiosity that got each of them watching the _Supernatural_ DVDs to begin with. He understood the appeal, well, the curiosity of them. Sam had watched part of an episode the day all that went down between Michael and Lucifer. He’d said it was too weird for him to see themselves on screen, and though Dean had yet to actually watch an episode, he agreed. Hell, he was still uncomfortable with the idea that they were a book series, but he understood _other_ people’s curiosity and interest in watching the show.

            But this was ridiculous.

            Almost everyone not out on a mission or scheduled for training was in the third floor common room. It looked like a massive sleep over, everyone crammed together on the sofas and on the floor with pillows, blankets, and bowls of popcorn, eyes fixed on the screen.

            Had it just been the humans, Dean thought it would have been strange enough, but this group included high-ranking angels, one demon- Meg and Gabriel were both apparently addicted, the freaking weirdoes that they were-, and two vampires; all expressions tense with worry making Dean falter as he walked by, turning to see what had them all so captivated, whereas normally he’d have just ignored it, pretended they were watching something else, anything else, and would have erased all memory of catching glimpses of himself or his brother on the screen. Repression was life-long honed skill of his, and it had served him well over the years.

            But their tense expressions made him pause, made him do what he hadn’t and regard the television screen. He blinked at the first thing he saw.

            “Dude, Meg, what happened to you?” he asked, the words coming unbidden.

            She waved a hand to hush him. “Tortured for a year by Crowley, he dyed my hair, and I got round face. Ssh.”

            Savvy was picking at her bottom lip nervously. “You’re actress has MS,” she said. “I think the weight gain is from the treatments or the disease.”

            “The real Naomi can’t actually puppet other angels like this, can she?” wondered Lenore, indicating the screen as it shifted to a scene of Cas and Naomi in a bright, sterile office.

            “Just watch,” Gabriel hissed, gnawing on his thumb nail.

            Intrigued what had them all looking so worried, Dean shifted his weight, regarding the screen with a frown. The ever growing group had been marathoning all week, and apparently the show had some serious drama, though what snippets he heard others talking about made no sense to him. Currently, Dean and Cas were searching a crypt looking for something vital. Dean frowned at the image of the other man.

            “What’s wrong with Cas? He looks like his soul’s been carved out.”

            “Naomi is controlling him,” someone said. “He’s been totally brainwashed.”

            Watching Cas break Dean’s wrist on screen was like a slap to the face he was unprepared for and he jerked in surprise. Several of the girls whimpered, and Meg’s popcorn froze halfway to her mouth, eyes wide as she watched the screen.

            The first time Cas hit the Dean on screen made the real Dean recoil with shock. He and Cas had fought before, hell, Cas has beat the crap out of him when Dean had been about to say ‘yes’ to Michael, but it had been nothing like this. Cas had  _felt_  in that alley, had been angry and felt betrayed by his friend, but even as angry as he’d been then, he’d held back, pulled his punches, thrown Dean around more than anything.

The Castiel on the television felt nothing, wailing on Dean without hesitation, and his expression void. His eyes looked soulless, like he wasn’t even seeing the agony he was causing, like he _felt_ nothing. Like he was a puppet. Cas hit Dean again, and one of the girls sobbed- Becky, he thought, while in reality Dean jerked like he’d been electrocuted, heart actually hurting because of what he was witnessing.

            He _wanted_ to walk away, wanted to stop seeing the image of Cas remorselessly beating Dean to death while the hunter tried to talk to him, begged him, tried to bring the angel back to himself. The Dean on the tv was on his knees in front of the angel and not even trying to defend himself.

            The possibility of it made Dean’s stomach turn sourly, made him want to vomit and cry, while at the same time, it made him viciously angry, made him want to rage at whatever force might even consider orchestrating such a scenario, that would dare put _that_ look in Cas’ eyes, that would break his angel so completely.

            In Heaven, Cas was fighting. Fighting back for control of his own body, he and Naomi yelling at each other as she threw out her ultimatum. The hunter’s throat felt tight, his eyes pricking at the sight of the two of them on the screen, of what they could have become, of the corner they could have been forced into.

            Another hit, and Dean jerked his gaze away, breaths coming shakily. It wasn’t real. It hadn’t happened. He looked back, struck with another horrible thought. Cas wouldn’t really kill Dean, would he?

No, he’d break through, he was _fighting_ it, fighting to reclaim himself and protect Dean.

            Another hit. The side of Dean’s face was ruined and bloody, barely able to speak for the swelling of his mouth and the fact that all the bones on one side of his face were broken, with nerve damage to top it all off. Becky was crying into the corner of her blanket, Savvy had tears steadily streaming down her face, and even Meg and Gabriel had eyes brimming with tears.

            “Make it stop,” a voice demanded hoarsely. Dean jerked around to find Cas at his elbow, the former angel pale as he stared in horror at the screen. “Make it stop!” he ordered loudly, sending Savvy scrambling to try and find the remote in all the blankets in their laps.

            One more hit. An actual tear fell from Cas’ eye just as the screen froze, Dean’s ruined face framed perfectly on the screen.

            Dean whirled on the former angel, already reaching for his arm, but the other man backed away from him sharply, posture rigid and head shaking rapidly. Horrified eyes flicked between Dean and the television.

            “How could they write that?” he demanded in a whisper, not looking at anyone, his face coloring. “How could they think that I would…” Swallowing thickly, Castiel ducked his head and all but fled down the hall and to the stairs.

            Taking an aborted step after him, Dean’s gaze snapped to the side, finding Savvy’s. “Does he kill me?” he asked desperately, needing to know as much for himself as for Castiel.

            Savvy rapidly shook her head, and he gave a curt nod before taking off after his angel. He checked their room on the second floor first and found it empty. Moving to go down to the ground floor, he skidded to a halt by the bathroom door, at the sound of running water filtering through. He could almost see the other man inside the small room, knew instinctively Cas was in there.

            Bracing one of his forearms against the doorframe, Dean rapped on the door with his knuckles.

            “Cas?” A pause. “Cas, let me in.”

            “Leave me alone, Dean,” came a muffled reply, flat and dispassionate.

            “Cas, I will pick this lock in less than two seconds and come in there, so either open the door or-“

            The brass nob turned and the door swung inward, the bathroom already filling with steam. Not even thinking about the ridiculousness of the setting, Dean stepped into Bobby’s avocado colored bathroom, Cas shutting the door behind him and locking it again, before glancing at Dean, then quickly sliding his gaze away.

            “I’m fine, Dean,” he insisted. “I just wanted a shower.”

            As Cas tossed his outer shirt to the chair to prove his point, Dean grabbed his arm. Blue eyes lifted to his, body carefully angled away from the hunter.

            “You don’t kill me,” Dean said softly. The angel dropped his gaze and pulled away, forcing Dean to follow after him, hands fisting in the front of Cas’ shirt. “Look at me,” he ordered, earning a glower, the angel’s lips pinched and angry. Dean softened his tone, “You break free, just like you would if something like that ever happened. Just like my dad did, just like Bobby did, just like Sam did. Hey, no,  _look at me_!” He touched their foreheads together and Cas closed his eyes as though he were in pain, brows furrowing as he swallowed thickly. “And I would not leave you through it, Cas. You wouldn’t fight it alone.”

            One hand slid up to Cas’ neck, fingers curling around, and thumb stroking the light stubble of the angel’s jaw, while Dean’s other hand fell to Castiel’s waist, fingers slipping past the waistband of his jeans to stroke once over the tattooed skin there. A shiver ran through the former angel from head-to-toe at the touch.

            “If you want, we’ll look into anti-angel tattoos as well,” Dean promised. “Or something to ward off any type of angelic influence.”

           He wanted to promise that he wouldn’t let anything like that happen to Cas, that he would protect him, keep him safe. That was all Dean wanted in the world was to protect Castiel, to keep him safe and by Dean’s side. He loved him so much it hurt sometimes, like now. Made him feel like it might crush him under the pressure.

Though he wanted to lean in and kiss the angel, to reassure him as the other man hesitantly nodded… he didn’t. In fact, they hadn’t kissed or been openly affectionate with each other since the night before last when they’d come back from the hunt, when Dean had purposefully kissed Cas in front of everyone just to be clear.

            But Cas had yet to be the one to initiate any type of affectionate touch, really, other than sliding his hand into Dean’s. God, Dean wanted to go slow with Cas, to not do anything to screw this up, and Cas’ lack of reaction worried him.

            “Cas,” he said softly, pulling back to see the angel’s expression as the other man looked at him. “What are we?”

            Blue eyes blinked at him. “Us? We’re family. Soul-bonded. We’re…”

            “Dating?” Dean questioned, arching a brow. “Romantically involved? In love?”

            Frowning, Cas shook his head. “Why are you asking me this?”

            “Because I want to make sure you understand. Because I want to make sure  _I_  understand. Because I want us to want the same thing, and everybody has to have the relationship talk, so we’re having it.”

            The steam curling through the room made beads of sweat roll down his spine, and seemed to make Cas’ disheveled hair even more so.

            “I love you,” Cas said simply, like it explained everything.

            Dean wished it did. “But are you  _in love_  with me? Because, I’m in love with you, Cas, and I want to date you, like  _properly_ , and for this to be a real relationship for you, because it’s your first one, and it would be my first real one, too, and I want it because it matters to me more than _anything_ I’ve ever done before, because it’s  _you_.” His eyes studied the other man’s face for a long moment. “But only if you want it, too.”

            “Of course, I want this, Dean,” insisted Cas. “What would make you think I don’t?”

            “Because I kissed you in the warehouse, Cas. I kissed you when we got home. I kissed you in front of the whole damn house, but  _I_  kissed _you_ ,” he enunciated, before taking a step back and raising his hands. “Hey, and if you want to go slow, dude, we can snail’s pace this. Even get separate beds or rooms. I planned to take this slow anyway, but I can go as slow as you want.” His hands fell to his sides. “But I need to know what is going on in that head of yours, because I suck at communication and can’t read minds, so you have to open up or something.”

            The angel was watching him cautiously; his mouth opened to speak, before he seemed to think better of it and closed it again. Dean nearly growled in frustration.

            “ _Talk to me._ ”

            “I’m afraid if you knew how much I need and want you, it would scare you off and I’ll lose you,” Castiel said finally, blue eyes locked with Dean’s. “I don’t understand my urge to reach for you, or what I want other than that physical contact, so I keep my distance. I don’t know what is okay and what isn’t, so I do nothing and follow your lead. This is so much _different_ than anything I’ve experienced in my entire existence, and angels are created for love and devotion, as well as to be soldiers.

            ‘Angels were made to love. To love God. To love humanity. That was so much different than this. Our love for our Father was a reverence, awe, a loyalty that inspired us to obedience. We’re meant to love humanity much like a priceless piece of art and a small child rolled into one. You are the first person I have ever chosen, the one I wanted just for myself. Dean… this scares me. I don’t know what is too much and what is okay. I have never wanted selfishly before. Not until I met you.”

            Swallowing, Dean nodded. “Okay, that’s fine. We snail’s pace it, but just to be clear,” He shook his head, “you don’t have to hold back with me, Cas.” He indicated the room with a twirl of his finger, making the angel glance around. “And when it’s just us, you definitely don’t ever have to hold back. And we’ll just… take this one step at a time, do this together.”

            “And are you sure this is what you want?” questioned the other man, splaying his hands out.

            “Of course.”

            Castiel shook his head, dropping his gaze. “No, not  _us_. I mean,  _me_ , in this form…” He looked up, expression hopeless just as Dean caught on. “You clearly like women, Dean…”

The angel trailed off and dropped his gaze. Dean had seen enough of his angel looking defeated and lost for one day, for a lifetime, and he wasn’t about to let Cas talk himself into yet another insecurity when he was already struggling with so much just by being in love for the first time.

Dean reached out and lifted the angel’s jaw, before slotting their mouths together without warning. Cas tensed in surprise, before melting into the kiss, pliant as Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him flush up against the hunter. Cas’ arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand carding through the blond’s hair while kissing the man hotly, pressing their bodies even closer.

A shudder ripped through Cas as Dean’s fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt to trail lightly over the skin there, desperately needing that contact, wanting more, but determined to go slow. A noise escaped the angel, a gasp, a groan, and Dean pulled him tighter. He ran his tongue over the seam of Cas’ bottom lip, coaxing the angel open, before delving into the other man’s mouth. One of them moaned, and the sound shot through Dean, warmth pooling low in his body and making him back Cas against the wall, crowding his body there with his own while they devoured each other’s mouths.

Castiel’s hands trailed down Dean’s sides, along his ribs to fall his hips, fingers digging in and pulling the hunter closer still, eliciting a low groan from the blond at the pressure of their hips pressing together, desire coursing all the way through him as those deft fingers slipped under his own shirt, trembling fingertips trailing over unexplored flesh.

Breaking the kiss, Dean touched their foreheads together, breathing heavily as he spoke, “Never doubt for a second that I want you, Cas. Exactly the way you are.” Blue eyes opened to regard him, pupils blown wide and hands still clutching at Dean’s waist beneath his shirt. “Yes, my history inspires no confidence, but it wasn’t until I met you that I fell in love. I _do_ love you. So much.” He chuckled, embarrassed. “This whole thing is new to both of us, so I guess we’ll take all of it slow and learn together.” He pulled back to let his eyes play over the other man’s face. “Okay?”

Licking his lip, Cas nodded. “Okay.”

Separating himself from the other man before he changed his mind about taking things slow, Dean nodded toward the door. “You okay with before?”

            Castiel’s expression fell and his gaze slid away again. “Yes, Dean. It was just… I wasn’t prepared to see that. Hadn’t considered I might be used for that.” Their eyes met again. “Even as an obedient angel, we still had free will. We just never exercised it, instead following orders because that was what was best for humanity, but we were never actually  _forced_.”

            Opening his mouth, Dean’s words were cut off by an explosion outside, followed by a blare of alarm sounding throughout the whole house. Their eyes met before they were both scrambling for the door, throwing it open and clamoring down the stairs to the main floor. Through the open door, Dean could see some of the angels just appearing on the front porch. Bobby and Ellen were tossing each other modified assault rifles loaded with angel rounds. The house shook with another explosion of sound from outside that was accompanied by the wrenching of metal and tearing of steel.

            “ _The hell are they doing out there_?” Bobby roared, face turning crimson.

            “Don’t come outside!” Anna yelled into the house, just as Sam and the others all spilled out onto the ground floor, the younger Winchester immediately seeking and finding his brother.

            “Dean!” He looked wildly toward the windows. “What’s going on?”

            With a shake of his head, Dean darted toward the front door, even as Balthazar snarled at him.

            “What part of ‘stay inside’ do you not bloody understand, Winchester?”

            “Are we under attack?” he asked Gabriel, whose eyes were trailing beams of light that were shooting back and forth rapidly overhead in the waning light of the evening.

The angels were all watching as the lights blazed around at each other, rocketing in opposite directions before one would dive back in at the other, stirring up wind and dust in a whirlwind. Every time they struck each other there was an explosion that made the cars quake and rattle, the ground seeming to shake beneath Dean’s boots, even as more people poured out onto the porch.

Raising a hand to try and shield his eyes, Sam peered up at the stars that shot like fire through the sky, one comet chasing the other into the woods around Bobby’s, completely disappearing into the evergreens save for the way they rustled and gave like they were nothing more than tall grass, parting for the forces spiraling out of control through their branches.

“The hell  _is_ that?!”

There was a horrified realization that settled over them as the spiraling stars flew by again, swords clashing loudly. “It’s Michael and Lucifer,” Sam breathed out, his voice lost in the sounds of battle.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

There was cacophony of noise as another explosion sent dirt and debris flying into the sky and then raining back down, rocks bouncing over the roof and sending spider webs of cracks across windshields.

Lowering the arm he’s raised to protect his eyes, Dean’s head snapped around to gape at his brother.

“ _That’s_ Mike and Lucy?” He looked back, trying to find the comets of light that were actually angels. “Are they crazy?!” He looked around at all the people on the porch, noting none were on the ground bleeding from their eyes. “It can’t be. How are we not dead yet?”

“They are still within their vessels,” Cas stated. “Which are proving far more durable this time around. They appear to be exercising at least  _some_ control over their fight by not targeting the house.”

There were gasps as one of the angels sent the other crashing headlong into a pillar of cars, Sam going still as a statue when they realized it was Lucifer, the metal bending easily around his form like it were pliant and soft, rather than screaming in protest as it was violently reshaped. Dazedly, the fallen angel shook his head, snapping back in focus to cast his gaze to the sky just in time to jump out of the way of Michael dive bombing him. Then, they were moving so fast only the trails of their grace indicated their location, swords ringing out sharply as their blades crossed in mid-air combat.

“Who started it?” demanded Jo.

“Who do you think?” her mother shouted back, hair flying around wildly. “Same one as last time! Looks like he wasn’t done causing trouble!”

Trees fell in a wave in the woods, so much noise and chaos Dean wondered how they weren’t going deaf from the sound of it.

“We have to stop them,” grit out Gabriel, both he and Balthazar taking a step forward to jump into the fray and separate their brothers.

Anna threw herself in front of them, whirling to face her siblings with her arms outstretched. “No!”

“Get out of the way, Anna!”

She glared hotly, eyes meeting Balthazar’s and then Gabriel’s. “Last time I got in the middle of their fight, when I was forced to choose between protecting the Winchesters or trying to save  _my own_  brothers, Michael cut me down without warning or regret!” Her hair stirred around her shoulders with her barely suppressed rage and grace. “What do you think he’d do to us now? We  _can’t_  stop them! All we can do is try to keep everyone else safe!”

As if having heard her words, the two archangels came falling to earth, spiraling through the air as they grappled with each other, colliding with earth and creating a deep ditch across the front yard from the impact. Michael stood with his feet spread and sword drawn at one end of the ditch, chin lifted in challenge before Lucifer even came to a complete stop. The archangel on the ground still had his sword held defensively; by far bearing the more serious of the injuries, while Michael’s wounds were all superficial cuts and slashes.

“Stop this, Michael,” Lucifer spoke in a rasp, wincing as he tried to push himself up, then fell back onto one knee, peering up at his sibling through one cracked open eye. Blood ran over one side of his face and into his other eye. “Was destroying each other for nearly a century not enough for you? Why must we do it again?”

“Because that is the way it was written,” snarled the dark haired angel. “Because this farce defies ineffable Word and _I_  must set it right, if only for us.”

Shoulders sagging, Lucifer’s head dropped, a snort escaping him, and he shook his head with a mirthless smile.

Balthazar moved to intervene again, and Anna bodily held him back, her frightened eyes locked on to where her brothers were, Michael with his feet planted and chin raised, Lucifer down on one knee, with his head still bowed and making no move to rise.

Without warning, Sam jumped the porch railing, causing a cry of alarm to rip from Gabriel and Anna both as he took off running, skidding to a halt and throwing his arms out protectively, his hazel eyes narrowing dangerously as they met Michael’s. When the hunter’s shadow fell over him, Lucifer sighed.

“Don’t, Gabriel. I’m tired. Let him have his prophesied victory.”

“Over my dead body,” Sam said, voice cold and sharp as razors. Lucifer’s head snapped up in surprise, eyes widening.

A moment later, Dean and Cas skid to a halt beside them, flanking the younger Winchester, the three of them standing resolutely and completely unarmed between the two archangels. From his spot on the ground, Lucifer was quickly trying to push himself to his feet, face more concerned than it had been moments earlier. “Sam-“

“Back down, Michael,” Sam said lowly. “You’ve lost.”

The angel blinked at him, frowning. “I’ve lost?” He snorted. “How do you come to that conclusion?”

“Because now you’re the bad son,” Dean stated, hooking a thumb toward the porch. “Or have you not noticed that no one is rushing to take your side?”

Both angels looked toward the house, where Bobby and Ellen both had their assault weapons aimed at Michael. The angels had stepped away from the porch, their weapons out, while the Reapers had materialized, Tessa at the forefront with her scythe at the ready.

Everyone… was looking directly at Michael.

The archangel paled in abject horror, his head shaking in denial as he looked back at the three men shielding his brother.

“It was  _written_ -“

“The game and rules  _changed_ ,” Sam snapped at him. Michael’s mouth clicked shut. “Your Father wanted you to set aside your differences and work together, but you are the one who can’t-  _won’t_  obey.”

Folding his arms over his chest, the elder Winchester glowered and said, “Lucky for you, we need you, but you are not welcome.” Michael looked at him. “You are _banned_ from staying in the house, which puts you in the warehouse with the demons instead. In fact, unless its mission related, I don’t even want to see you.”

“But, I-“

“Live with your disgrace, brother,” Cas interjected, teeth grit, “and be glad that our Father did not see fit to personally intervene in this matter.”

If possible, the other man paled even more, casting a pleading looked over to his siblings, his eyes locking with Anna’s. Keeping her gaze with his, Anna purposefully turned away, she and her brothers ushering the others back into the house, their backs pointedly to Michael as they disappeared inside with a slam of the screen door.

Tessa put away her own weapon, the blade disappearing from sight as she made wordless gestures to her subordinates and they blinked out of sight one-by-one. That was when Crowley made his way over, hands in the pockets of his suit, lowered gaze sweeping up to meet Michael’s eye.

“I do believe banishment from the house means you now report directly to _me_ ,” his amused expression slid over to the Winchesters, eyebrows shooting up. “Well that’s certainly an unexpected turn of events.” When he turned to regard Michael again, he jerked his head toward the warehouse. “Off with you then, you can make yourself useful training the troops. If you behave, we may still let you participate in the actual battle to come.”

They both vanished from sight, Michael looking like a man who’d lost everything, and was wondering why he still existed anymore. Dean’s head whipped around making sure they were truly gone, before all the breath left his body in a rush and he doubled over, hands on his thighs, before pointing blindingly toward his own brother.

“That is the  _stupidest_  thing we have  _ever_  done!” He shoved himself up straight again, sucking in a sharp breath as he did. “And that is on a  _long_ list of stupid stunts!”

The younger male pivoted to regard the angel still standing warily behind them, eyeing the three of them as though he had never laid eyes on them before. Blood was trailing down the side of his face from his temple, red staining his shirt where slashes and rips had ruined the fabric.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked in a rush, gaze raking over the archangel worriedly. Some of the smaller scraps were already mending themselves closed, but too many of them were still bleeding, making him look too human.

Unable to comprehend, Lucifer shook his head, his face as expressive as any of the men had ever seen it. “Why would you do that?” He shook his head more strongly. “Sam, he could have _killed_ you like it were nothing, without even a real thought to it. Why would you recklessly throw yourself-“

“Because you’re mine,” Sam said, cutting him off and leaving him possibly even more stunned than before. Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “If anyone gets to kill you, it’s gonna be me and nobody else.” He swallowed thickly. “And I’m getting kind of use to having you around, weird as that may sound.”

“Dude,” Dean squawked, waving an arm to try and break the eye lock the two of them held with each other. They both ignored him, even as Cas moved over to his side. “Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth? I’m all for stopping Michael, but you can’t just-“ Words failed him, and he gestured awkwardly, looking to the man beside him for help. Cas shrugged.

Sam did break eye contact then, if only to glance at his brother, one brow arching. “So you’re the only one allowed to have an angel at your back?”

“ _Totally_ different,” argued Dean. “Cas saved me from hell!” Which was a completely valid and crucial difference, he thought.

“Just as Sam saved me,” Lucifer cut in, tone carefully composed. They all looked at him again, Sam offering the barest hint of a smile.

Unable to even articulate a proper response, Dean just threw his hands up and turned to stalk inside. Cas was just a step behind him in following.

Sam moved to head into the house as well, smiling to himself as he could hear his brother hissing to the angel beside him, “Two _completely different_ circumstances!”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas assured him, patting him on the shoulder, before heading for the stairs. “I believe I left the water running.”

Looking over his shoulder at the archangel that still hung back hesitantly, Sam jerked his head toward the house. "C'mon. We'll get you cleaned up and looked at."

Hearing the concern in his brother’s voice, Dean shook himself and ran a hand over his face before storming into the War Room where Bobby, Ellen, and the Major were congregating around the massive table and map that the room revolved around. Becky was seated at the desk, talking into a headset, while dividing her attention between her laptop and a notepad.

“Where do we stand on things, Bobby?” Dean questioned, regarding the map that was starting to look more like a battle strategy.

“Well, Naomi came by yesterday to let us know that God will be repairing the majority of the damage to the wall, but that it’s up to us to repair and replace the weakest part that is actually the cause of all this chaos to begin with.”

Nodding, Dean moved to stand beside him, arms folded as his gaze flicked over the different markers on the map. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“We’re getting everybody out of Ground Zero, at the moment,” Ellen said, indication a spot on the map. “The military is already working on that-“

“And nobody is asking  _why_?” he scoffed.

“Intelligence of a terrorist attack on the city,” she said with a shrug, then her finger traveled in a circle, hitting various other cities in the trek. “Each of the cities we are having evacuated are under similar warning. Gas leak. Unstable reactor. Military training exercise. Mandatory evacuation, all of them.”

Shaking his head, Dean twirled his wrist over the map. “Why? Why all these cities if this is Ground Zero?”

The Major looked at Dean, his dark eyes meeting the hunter’s. “We’re taking a page from a man I believe you are familiar with: Samuel Colt.”

Snorting, Dean nodded. “Oh, I’ve heard of him.”

Nodding, the Major reached over and scooped up a series of tacks, sticking them into the various cities Ellen had indicated. “We’re going to have to put up a wall, barrier, door, whatever right where the other one is most damaged. He did something similar with a Hell Gate, I’m told. This is that on a much larger scale, and it’s gonna take everyone we have to pull it off because we all have to be in place when the wall actually breaks.”

The hunter looked sharply at Ellen and Bobby. “We’re actually going to let the wall break?!” He turned as Sam came over to stand beside him, brow furrowed as he regarded the map.

“No other choice,” Bobby admitted, scratching at his forehead with his thumb.

“It’s a rotten and brittle door,” Ellen continued. “The whole thing is gonna have to come down and be replaced. We can’t just slap on a fresh coat of paint and think it’s gonna hold.”

The Major was winding a black piece of thread between the tacks he’s stuck into the map. “There are layers of shields that will go up the moment the wall breaks. The first one is the strongest and goes around Ground Zero until the outer teams can get the new barrier up. This is a containment field, and our Alpha Team- led by you and your brother, and consisting of our hardest hitters- are charged with trying to take out as many monsters as possible while the other teams, positioned at each of these points, put up the wall that will once again separate Purgatory from the other realms of reality.”

Hand splaying over the center of the pentagram now on the map, Sam asked, “So, you mean until that new wall goes up, we’re locked in this grid while monsters from Purgatory pour in from the other side?”

“Essentially.”

The brothers met gazes, then looked back to ask in unison, “How long does it take for the new wall to go up?”

Ellen shook her head. “Not that simple-“

“Of course it isn’t,” sighed Dean, raking a hand over his face, before planting his hands on the table and looking each advisor in the eye. “What exactly are we to expect?”

“The containment field has the ability to gauge the threat level of whatever is inside. Even once the new wall goes up, the central barrier won’t come down if the threat assessment level is still too high. Its entire function is containment. You’ll be cut off completely for the sake of keeping those things in Purgatory from spreading to a wider area.”

Bobby said, “Seeing as how high the threat is, we didn’t have any other option, and this is the only way to fix that wall for good.” He looked directly at the Winchesters. “You are the only shot we have. You go in with your team, kill as many of these sonsuvbitches as you can while the others put up the new wall, then once no  more can come through, and you’ve thinned out the majority of the monsters, the containment field will automatically come down; the other teams already in place move in to help finish off whatever monsters are left.”

The Major shifted, and Dean’s narrowed gaze leveled on him. “What happens if we can’t fight all the monsters back?”

“Dean’s right,” Sam said, nodding and gesturing to the map. “I mean, we have no idea what to even expect to come through that portal, if we’re even equipped to fight them or  _how_  to fight them. What happens if we fail?”

Expression stoic, the Major blinked slowly. “Then the next step is to destroy the city from within-“

“What?!”

“Explosives have already been placed throughout and even underneath the city’s surface, with every factory and reactor ready to blow-“

“You can’t do that!”

“The containment field will then keep the dangerous particles and toxins contained as if in a jar until Crowley opens a Hell portal and drops the entirety of it there. Just the ruins of an empty city will be left behind, and we already have stories to feed the media to explain what happened so that the public remains none the wiser.” His dark eyes met with Dean’s just as the hunter opened his mouth to demand if he really thought people were going to believe something like that. “We’ve been covering up every near-Armageddon for centuries and letting people go on believing what they want about the reality of the monster under the bed. People  _always_  buy the lie.”

“How long before this all goes down?”

The Major looked at Bobby who shrugged. “Couple of days. We move the main teams in, the internal barrier goes up, and then the other teams get to work putting up the new wall while y’all get on with the monster killing.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Do what we do best, I guess.” He looked at the map, eyes focused on the center of the pentagram that circled Detroit, suddenly feeling exhausted at the very idea of what lay ahead of them.

“I don’t want Cas to be on the main team,” he heard himself say. Ellen and Bobby both looked at him in surprise, brows raised.

Sam looked at him as well, shaking his head lightly. “Dean, you know Cas is never gonna go for that.”

The elder Winchester glared. “Sam, we are basically cannon fodder. You know as well as I do: the majority of Alpha Team probably isn’t going to survive this- if  _any_  of us do- which is why they have the containment field. If we fail, Crowley sucks the entire city into a hell dimension and a crater is left in its wake.” He looked at Bobby. “He’s too new to being human to be on a battlefield of that magnitude. If he were still an angel, that would be one thing-“

“We can talk to the angels,” Ellen said, “get them to give him his Grace back.”

“Cas doesn’t want his Grace back,” Dean said. They all blinked with a start. “Cas gets his Grace back, he’s back to experiencing life through frosted, bulletproof glass. He doesn’t want that.” Shaking his head, he looked at Bobby. “I need to know he’s as safe as can be hoped for during this so I can concentrate on my job.”

The older hunter shook his head. “Dean, we can’t afford not to have him on the team. There will be plenty of other humans in just as much in danger as he is. He goes. He’d never agree not to go, son,” he said, not unkindly.

The hunter let his head hang, stomach twisting sourly, before he nodded his acquiescence. He’d known while he was arguing there was no point, even if they agreed, Cas would fight it tooth and nail, still finding some way to be there with the Alpha Team. Dean wanted him safe on the other side of the planet while the battle took place, with land masses and oceans between him and the threat they were facing.

Bobby jerked his head toward the door. “Both of you should probably head to bed early. Tomorrow, the entire team is headed to Detroit to get a feel for the layout and to see all the different places we have stashed weapons and ammunition for during the fight. We’re getting reports that the city is already crawling with all kinds of monsters that have already slipped through the cracks.” He shook his head. “You boys have been running non-stop for months now. Get some rest while you can.”

Releasing a long breath, Dean nodded, suddenly weary, and turned away to make his way upstairs. In their room, Cas was already in bed reading, glancing at Dean over the edge of his paperback. He smiled tiredly at the angel as he shut the door to their room before moving over to the chest of drawers and pulling out a shirt to change into, face pensive and mind distracted.

Pulling off his boots and socks, Dean undid his belt and let his pants fall, kicking them to the side, before peeling his shirt over his head. Cas’ eyes lingered on the hunter, trailing over his form, the curve of his shoulders and arch of his spine as he removed his shirt. His tongue darted out across his bottom lip as he watched, allowed to look with appreciation and wanting now. Unaware, Dean pulled on his clean shirt, shifting his shoulders to allow the soft cotton to fall into place, before turning back to the bed. Cas’ gaze had already darted back to his book.

Turning off the lamp on his nightstand, Dean pulled back the corner of the covers and slid into bed beside Cas, the other man glancing at him in question as he did so.

“Bobby says we have a couple of big days ahead of us and better get sleep while we can.”

Frowning, Cas slipped his bookmark into place, shutting the paperback before rolling onto his side to set it by the bed and turn off his own lamp. As soon as the light shut off, Dean’s arm snaked over Cas’ waist, the hunter moving closer and making the angel stiffen in surprise, unused to feeling Dean’s body pressed against his. The hunter ducked his head, dropping a kiss to the other man’s shoulder. Twisting his head, Cas tried to look back at the blond, but the angle was to his disadvantage.

Lips still resting against the material of Castiel’s shirt, Dean inhaled deeply, body relaxing into the mattress as he exhaled, before he lifted his head enough to ask, “Is this okay?”

Nodding in the darkness, Cas laid his head against the pillow, settling into the warmth of Dean against him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked after a few moments, voice soft in the dark room.

He could feel Dean shake his head, feel his breath as he spoke. “I’ve just wanted to do this for a while and now I can.” He paused a moment, swallowing. “I’m not one for words, Cas. I’m an actions kind of guy. I like physical things, even as just reminders.” The arm around the angel’s waist tighten possessively just the slightest bit. “I get to have this. I actually get to keep you, but the idea of that feels surreal, like you’ll slip away if I don’t hold on.”

Cas tried to pivot, but Dean held firm and the brunette man settled back down, realizing Dean keeping his face from him was for a reason. Maybe he couldn’t say these things if he was looking at the angel.

Seconds stretched out in the silence, Castiel loving the feeling of having Dean wrapped around him and pressed against him, the warmth of his body familiar and comforting.

“I’m scared, Cas,” Dean said finally, voice a whisper in the darkened room.

Castiel’s free hand came up to curl around Dean’s wrist, thumb stroking over the skin. “Of what?”

“I finally get you just days before we are supposed to be the world’s last stand.”

“You don’t think we’ll win?” he questioned, a hint of surprise to the question as he turned his head again.

“Cas, if I lose you, it won’t matter to me if the world is saved,” Dean whispered, voice raw and so soft it was nearly lost; his words making the angel’s breath catch in his throat.

Twisting, Cas pivoted in Dean’s arms, the hunter letting him this time, until they were facing each other, eyes meeting in the dim light filtering through the curtains. He studied the other man in the darkness, eyes playing over his face, studying the freckles and the different shades of green in the hunter’s eyes. Dean let him, remaining silent as Cas read all the things that the hunter wasn’t saying.

Dying wasn’t what Dean was afraid of, nor the nearly impossible task they were attempting to undertake. He wasn’t even afraid of what would happen were they to fail as humanity’s last stand. Dean was afraid of losing Castiel. That was the paramount threat hanging over the hunter’s head, the thing he was most afraid of.

The other man didn’t even know what to say to that, couldn’t imagine how he could mean so much to one man that his loss would be more devastating than facing his own death, the loss of their friends and family, or even the destruction of the world.

Cas pressed his mouth to Dean’s, hand coming up to slide through blond’s hair, pulling him in closer, mouth hot and needy against his. Dean kissed back just as passionately, trying to take control of the kiss, and Cas refused to let him, quickly growing frustrated with the restriction their position forced. He used his body to shift them until he was over Dean, tongue delving into the hunter’s mouth and eliciting sounds of pleasure from both of them. One of the blond’s hands ran up and down Cas’ side, his other buried in the angel’s dark hair as their mouths moved hot and slick against each other’s.

The angel’s whole body was heating up from within, wanting more contact, more friction as want began to pool lower in his body, a building ache and anticipation as the hand that had been running over the hunter’s chest through his shirt slid lower and under the hem. His hand slid up over the planes of Dean’s stomach and chest, then back down, nails scraping lightly down Dean’s side, the hunter arching into the touch with a low moan of satisfaction that made Cas want to find all the other ways to derive sounds of pleasure from him.

Inexperienced though he may be, ghosts of someone else’s memories told his body how good it could feel, how good he could make Dean feel, and even just the thought of it sent a shudder of need through him. Cas could feel the way both of their bodies were responding, their growing erections almost pressing fully against each other through entirely too many layers of clothing.

Breaking the kiss, Cas clenched the material of Dean’s shirt in his fist impatiently. “Remove these. Now.”

“No,” Dean said, breathless, making Cas blink with surprise. That was not the response he’d be expecting. The hunter slid the hand that had been in his hair to stroke over the side of Cas’ face. “We save the world first and then have the rest of our lives ahead of us. We get that house, fence, and maybe a dog. We do this the right way, Cas.” Dean shook his head. “I’ve done the ‘it’s our last night on earth’ thing before. You and I are gonna live through this, because when we do, it’s gonna be me and you, from now until God himself reaps us because we are good and old.” Smiling, Dean pressed his mouth to Cas’ again, a soft, lingering touch of lips, before pulling back to look at him. In a quick twist, Dean changed their positions, his weight settling over the angel as the hunter let his eyes play over his face, studying the angles of it. “We have nothing but the rest of our lives to enjoy each other: days and weeks- for months, years, and decades, Cas, you’ll be mine.”

Lips curling in a smile, Cas kissed him and said, “I already am.”

 

 

The downstairs of the house was quiet as Sam made his way through the galley the next morning, making him pull up short at the sight of the figure standing by the window looking out into the black of pre-dawn.

            Lucifer turned his head only slightly, head inclining in silent greeting before he looked away again. The younger Winchester glanced around hopefully, twisting to peer into the War Room to see if anyone else was already up as well. It was empty.

            “You’re up early,” commented the angel. His soft voice still nearly made Sam startle in surprise.

            Coughing, he hurried into the kitchen searching for breakfast and a distraction. “Uh, yeah.” Movement made him glance toward the other man as the angel came to stand at the end of the counter, hip against the cabinet and arms folded, regarding the brunette. Sam looked away. “I usually try to get in a run in the mornings. Before the sum comes up is about the only time this house is quiet and someone doesn’t need something.”

            The devil chuckled, and God, this would never not be  _weird_  for Sam.

            ‘What did you do this morning?’

            ‘Oh, you know, had a civil conversation with  _Satan_  over coffee and cereal, no big.’

             He had no idea how to talk to him, despite their coming to a sort of… agreement? Understanding? Mutual agreement that only  _they_  were allowed to kill each other, while tentatively attempting to give in to all the ways they were similar and be sort-of friends?

When had Sam started to feel possessive of the angel in return? When he’d watched Lucifer fall away from him and into the Cage? The two times in the past week Lucifer had saved his life, first with the zombies, then from his own brother?

He dreamt about the day in Stull cemetery sometimes, of right after he’d jumped into the portal and the abyss had stretched out before him. Sam and Lucifer had shared the experience equally in that moment, Sam staring in horror and trying to continue to be brave knowing he’d made the right call. He’d felt Lucifer’s resolution, though he hadn’t known what it meant until he’d felt hands on his chest, had felt the force of being shoved away, Lucifer separating himself from Sam so that the angel was the one falling, fingers clutched in Sam’s jacket and their eyes locked.

A smile had graced Lucifer’s features then: ancient, resigned, and fond all at once.

“Good-bye, Sam,” he whispered, before shoving forcefully, sending them falling in opposite directions, the angel’s arms and hands outstretched before him as he fell, as though hoping to be caught.

More often than not, Sam awoke as he jerked to a sitting position, hand outstretched and closing around empty air.

            “Why are you up so early?” the younger Winchester asked before he could start babbling idiotically.

            Shrugging, Lucifer stepped aside to allow Sam to get to the silverware drawer. “I like watching the sunrise.” The hunter looked at him in surprise, but the archangel’s focus was on the window again, gaze distance. “I was there for the first sunrise. The world was only moments old. Thousands of years and the world is completely changed and unrecognizable, yet some things will always be the same.”

            His blue eyes swept back over to the hunter, frowning slightly at the way the younger man was staring. “What?” he asked, expression becoming closed off and guarded.

            Shaking himself, Sam refocused his attention on breakfast, ignoring the part of his brain wondering why Lucifer never asked if Sam remembered that moment in the fall. Maybe he didn’t ask for the same reason Sam never asked why he’d done it: he was scared of the answer.

Hopping up to sit on the counter as he ate, and foot bouncing nervously, Sam finally blurted, “Is this weird for you?”

Because it was, and it was also weird that it wasn’t weird, that it felt natural for the two of them to spend these quiet moments together.

            Lucifer stared impassively. Sam motioned between them with his spoon, though he was pretty sure the other man knew exactly what he was talking about. “I mean, normal conversations isn’t something we’ve ever done. How is this not weird for you?”

            The blond rolled his eyes. “Weird is my father letting us out of the Cage and giving me a mission, while my siblings act like nothing happened and everything is fine now. Weird is everyone sitting around the table like we’re all the same, rather than completely different species that have been at war for more years than you can fathom.  _Weird_  is watching as Michael defies my father’s orders while _I_ obey.” Penetrating blue eyes found his, one brow lifting as he smirked. “So, no, Sam. This does not register as weird for me. In fact, being that it’s you, this time together feels… natural.” He chuckled then, face breaking into a smile as he dropped his gaze. “Relax. You don’t have to make conversation,” he promised, taking a seat on the opposite counter.

            Heat rose to Sam’s cheeks. Of course Lucifer knew all about Sam’s social awkwardness. Working a case? Sam was  _great_  with people. Just regular small talk though? He either ended up babbling or there was a whole lot of awkward silence and polite smiles while praying that Dean would _please_  show up and save him by drawing some, if not all, of the attention away.

            Still. He had decided to make something new with Lucifer, to give him a chance- one he’d earned. He stole a glance at the archangel again, several topics of conversations scrolling through his head.

            The majority seemed to be as dangerous as trying to navigate a minefield while drunk and blindfolded.

            That was when he noticed the bandages the archangel still wore. Gabriel and Anna had explained the day before when Jo had had to _stitch and bandage Lucifer up_ that because Michael was the oldest and most powerful, Lucifer couldn’t just heal his injuries. More than his vessel had been injured, the angel’s Grace had, and not even his more concerned siblings could help with the healing. Michael could, but no one was going to ask him to heal Lucifer right after they’d had a fight.

In fact, they planned to keep them as separated from each other as possible, the angel in question being forced to work side-by-side to help train the demons into better fighters, so as to protect the humans responsible for working the spell at each of the target points. Crowley’s occasional ‘tut’s when the angel was too forceful always made Michael flinch and jerk his head away, gaze lowered. The muscle in his jaw would flex as he clenched his teeth, but he was gentler the next time, his words soft as he said, “Do it again.” Whenever Crowley gave him a pat on the back or word of praise, it only seemed to break the archangel further, shrinking into himself with regret.

Lucifer’s injuries would heal in a matter of days rather than the weeks it would take for a human, but that didn’t make them any less real.

            The sight of fresh blood spreading through the bandage at Lucifer’s temple had Sam jumping off the counter and crossing over into the angel’s personal space in a matter of seconds, catching the blond off guard as Sam’s expression became almost panicked.

            “Shit. You’re bleeding again!”

His gaze darted around, trying to remember where the first aid kit was in this renovated kitchen, while Lucifer curiously reached up to touch his bandages, as though having completely forgotten about them.

Grabbing the medical kit, Sam darted back to the other man, clinical eyes scanning his form as a calm settled over him. The archangel’s knees were on either side of Sam’s hips, arms resting on his thighs and head cocked curiously to the side as he let Sam do whatever he planned, watching with interest.

Reaching for the bandage at the angel’s temple, Sam faltered and showed both his open palms. “We need to clean the wound and change the bandage. Is that okay?” Frowning at the request for consent, the blond inclined his head once wordlessly. The hunter nodded, gaze fixing on the bandage as his long fingers gingerly began to peel away the medical tape. Lucifer quietly studied the complete demeanor shift in the other man. “This may hurt, if it sticks to your skin or the stitches. Just bear with me.”

The angel allowed the attention, not wincing when the blood and fluid that had dried to the wound were pulled away. He could feel fresh blood trickling now, making Sam swear and reach for gauze and antiseptic, carefully and quickly cleaning the stitched wound, before applying more medicated salve and covering it with a fresh bandage.

Hazel eyes examined Lucifer, drifting to his torso and arms that were covered by the long sleeves of his shirt. The taller male glanced around, motioning to one of the long tables.

“C’mon. While we’re at it, we might as well go ahead and inspect and clean all the other wounds as well. Ellen will kill us if we get blood in the kitchen.” He stepped away from Lucifer, moving over to the cabinets to collect more supplies. “Take your shirt off and have a seat.”

The angel did as instructed, corner of his mouth curling in amusement at the shift in Sam’s demeanor now that he was dealing with something he was familiar with and knew how to handle, even if the injured person  _was_  Lucifer. Sam’s form was relaxed, movements confident and practiced from so many years of doing this with Dean. His gaze and mind were able to focus on the familiar task before him. The angel didn’t miss the flush of color on the hunter’s cheeks, though.

When Sam came back over to where Lucifer was sitting on the edge of the table, shirt neatly folded beside him, the hunter paused, regarding the blond with his head angled to the side. Lips wilting into a frown, Sam’s brows furrowed as his eyes drifted to all of the bandages covering the archangel’s arms and torso.

“Jesus,” Sam swore, shaking his head.

The angel chuckled, brow arching as his lips curled into a crooked smile. “Definitely not.”

Blinking, Sam snorted a laugh at the joke and positioned himself to start working on the bandages on Lucifer’s arm, slowly and carefully peeling away tape and gauze. “Explain to me how Michael kicked your ass this bad. I know you’re better than this. You could completely destroy each other down to your atoms.” He hesitated, then mentally shrugged and admitted, “I’d bet money you could rip him apart with ease.” He fingers paused in their work, gaze sliding to regard the angel who was staring pointedly at the opposite wall. “You held back.”

“We destroyed each other down to our molecules over and over again in the Cage for nearly a century,” Lucifer said in a low voice. “I don’t have the energy to do it again. I have no more anger to unleash on him. I look at Michael and can’t even remember how we got this way, why we didn’t stop it when we saw the signs, when our siblings tried to intervene.”

Sam faltered, hands that still held bloody bandages falling to rest against the angel’s knees as he stared into blue eyes, stunned silence stretching between them.

“You were  _really_  going to let him kill you,” Sam said in a shocked whisper. The other man blinked slowly but said nothing, and wow, Sam didn’t even know what to think of that, surprised by how horrified he was at the thought of it. Tongue darting out across his lips, he was so busy trying to make his brain form words, he didn’t notice the way the angel’s gaze had dropped to follow the movement. “B-but you  _can’t_ ,” he finally stammered. “We need you!” The devil quirked a brow and Sam pointed toward the War Room. “We are  _days_  away from  _everything_  going up in flames, Lucifer! If we didn’t need you to even have a chance of saving the world, then why would God have let you out of the cage? You can’t just…  _die_! Let Michael kill you like that!”

A humorless chuckle escaped the angel, covering the hunter’s larger hands with his own before he looked up at him from under his lashes with something like pleading and pity, like it was vital that he make the hunter understand.

“Sam.” The hunter could feel a hum trailing up his arms from where the angel was touching him and tried to play it off as uncontained Grace. It didn’t explain the thudding of his heart against his ribs, though. “I am  _tired_. I have hated my brother for… well, since before earth was even _created_. He and I have been fighting each other for far too long. There is  _always_  a battle to be fought, and he and I have always fought them, even when the war landed us on opposing sides. …I just want it done.”

“But this time it’s different,” Sam insisted, desperate to somehow make the other man  _see_. “Okay, fine, your brother’s a dick, I could have told you that, and yes there’s a war to fight, but… but look around! You can’t honestly say this- here and now- is anything like what it was back then, that it even compares. This is worth fighting for! We are on the brink of something brand new, a world where we  _stop_  fighting each other!”

He shook his head when Lucifer continued to look at him with that same pity, like Sam was a child dreaming of the impossible, but he didn’t have to heart to disillusion him. Sam wanted to shake him, anger rising.

“C’mon! You have to see it, too! We have demons, hunters, creatures, and angels sitting around the same table sharing meals! We’re all getting along! The only problem we’ve run into so far is Michael and the tree up his ass. I mean, things can change! My brother is dating an angel,  _your_ brother! All the girls, regardless of species, have made friends with each other and hang out! I mean, hell, look at  _us_ ,” he exclaimed, pulling one hand away to motion between their chests.

 

Pursing his lips, Lucifer regarded Sam, letting his eyes play over the hunter’s face as he studied him. “You  _really_  think this will all work.” The other man nodded solemnly. “That this war that has existed from the beginning will just stop.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Sam tossed the bloody gauzes to the side and let his hand fall back to Lucifer’s knee. The other man curled his fingers around his wrists. “Not  _just_  stop. I’m sure it’ll be a work in progress but look how far we’ve come. You and I on regular speaking terms, for starters. You and Michael can actually be in the same room with each other, and I think he will get better now that he’s been forced to re-evaluate things. Things are  _already_  getting better. I mean, the King of Hell is still massively in our debt- unless you take over, of course-”

Snorting, Lucifer cast his gaze away, glowering. “I am not going back.” His eyes returned to Sam’s. “But I won’t go to Heaven, either, if I’m even allowed. I think my place is on earth… or it’s where I can at least find a place for me.”

“You can,” Sam said earnestly, making Lucifer’s mouth curl in amusement. Sam was so young and endearing. So sure. “And, y’know, you can help try to keep things balanced and under control. Demons are going to listen to you, you trump Crowley’s orders, and he’s definitely not gonna go against anything you say. You could do great things, Luce. This can be the start of what you never _dreamed_ possible, beyond ineffable word and prophecy.”

The devil blinked with a start just as Sam seemed to realize what he’d said and flushed bright red in embarrassment. “I-I mean-“

“Gabriel and my father call me that,” Lucifer said thoughtfully.

“Sorry, Dean and I just have a tendency to- sorry,” he stammered, looking everywhere but at the man he had been bandaging. He moved to step away, but Lucifer’s grip on his wrists held him fast. He looked at the angel worriedly.

The other man gave him the barest hint of a smile. “It’s fine, Sam.” His smile widened; a glint in his eye. “We’re friends now, right? You did insist.”

Sam scowled. “Now you’re just mocking me.”

The devil shrugged, lifting one hand to touch the side of Sam’s face. The hunter allowed the contact, surprised at how the touch felt… normal, soothing even. “I’m still getting use to the idea. Just saying it makes me laugh sometimes.” His eyes met Sam’s. “The impossibility of it, or surrealism. I’ve had family and siblings. I have no end of enemies.” His eyes played over the hunter’s face. “I can honestly say I’ve never just had a friend.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam pulled his hands away and this time Lucifer let him, allowing him to return to cleaning and rebandaging the wounds Michael had inflicted on him the day before. “Brand new world and all that.”

Turning his head, Lucifer purposefully caught Sam’s eye before he spoke, “I think I could like it, and that this… could be something worth fighting one more battle over.” One hand rose to the back of Sam’s neck and pulled him in closer till their foreheads nearly touched, Lucifer’s nose brushing his as the power of that gaze made Sam’s entire body seem to hum. “I was wrong before. I didn’t understand what my father’s plans really were, but despite things not going the way anyone expected them to… You are  _mine_ , Sam. You and I were destined for each other, understand each other in ways no one else could, and were always meant to find the other one. Know that.”

The brunette had to swallow thickly, unable to form a response around the knot in his throat. He found himself nodding instead, feeling the connection between them thrumming, the pull that was always there, that had been there from day one, drawing them together. Was this what Dean and Cas had felt when they’d first become friends? Something neither could explain pulling them closer?

If later he were asked, Sam honestly couldn’t say who closed the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a soft, chaste kiss… but he could say that he made no move to pull away, either.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

Panting, Dean looked down into the blue eyes staring back up at him, Cas pinned beneath the hunter’s body as they both tried to catch their breath. Using his forearms to hold himself up, Dean angled his head to the side.

“You okay?”

Swallowing, Cas nodded, sweat trickling down his temple. “Yes, Dean. Though I am questioning if this was the best idea given our mission in a few hours.”

Grinning, Dean pushing himself back and then up onto his feet, reaching down to offer the other man a hand up from the ground where their latest spar had landed them. The angel nodded in gratitude, knocking dust from his clothing as he looked around the training area in the warehouse.

“I am pleased to know my skills in hand-to-hand combat have not been hampered by suddenly being completely human.”

Grinning, Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You  _are_  kind of a badass.”

Chuckling, Cas turned to face him, head angled to the side as he regarded the hunter fondly. “I strive just to live up to your level of awesome, Dean,” he said, fingers curling in the front of Dean’s outer shirt.

“Now you’re just flirting,” he laughed.

Cas pretended to consider this a moment. “Mm, maybe.” His eyes met Dean’s before he pressed their mouths together with a pleased hum. Dean’s face broke out into another grin when the angel pulled away, separating himself and rolling his shoulders. “Okay, let’s up the challenge.”

Releasing a sharp whistle, Dean looked over to the demon stretched across a bench reading a magazine. “You heard him, Meg. Two-on-one.”

She tossed away the magazine with almost a purr, a brow arching finely as she tapped her practice weapon against her thigh. “Now that is one three-way I would never so ‘no’ to.”

Castiel shifted his weight and took up a fighting stance, moving as the hunter and demon positioned themselves in the circle. “Hell will freeze over first, Meg,” Cas assured her, Dean chuckling and nodding his agreement.

“Besides, I’m the jealous type who doesn’t like to share,” the hunter said, taking the first lunge at his boyfriend.

Castiel gracefully sidestepped it, while blocking the strike of Meg’s weapon, the two fake swords clashing against each other. “Luckily, I have absolutely no quarrel with this.”

The brunette woman rolled her eyes even as she blocked Cas’ punch and return with a high kick of her own. He pulled just out of the way in time. “You two lovebirds make me want to vomit. Too many warm feelings.” She coughed as she landed on the ground suddenly, all air leaving her body after Cas ducked a punch from Dean and kicked the demon’s legs out from under her at the same time. When she caught his smirk, she grinned back. “Though my offer for angry hate-sex? Always open, Clarence.”

Later, they headed out to the training field to see how things are going with the hunters, demons, and angels all working together preparing for the Final Battle that was to take place in Detroit.

Lucifer found the location particularly funny, and Sam always ended up scowling at him when the angel released a snort of laughter.

Bobby and Ellen were both yelling at soldiers who were making rookie mistakes, and at demons with an attitude problem. If anyone got too cocky or arrogant about their skills, they were put in a ring with Michael- and promptly laid out on their ass in .01 seconds, all the while the archangel glowered his disappointment. Gabriel ran the other teams through what would be their part in the operation, yelling when they ran over the time limit and barking at them to: do again, do it right, and do it fast.

There wasn’t any yelling where Anna was. All she had to do was glare, and people gulped, ducked their heads, and promptly tried to correct their mistakes.

Tessa and the other reapers were already in Detroit, getting a lay of the land, and memorizing where all the weapons caches were, escape routes if they got bogged down in any one area, and generally familiarizing themselves with the battlefield, should they have to teleport any of the humans on the team to safety. Tessa had warned them that with the shield in place, it would make Reapers incapable of doing their job if anyone died in the battle. Despite the graveness of an injury, the person in question would be able to keep fighting… but the instant the wall came down…

Dean nodded, not wanting to think about how many of their allies might all just drop at the end of the battle, remembering the way Pamela had suddenly started bleeding out from a stab wound once Reapers were able to get back to their jobs. He didn’t want to think about how the majority of his family would be on the Alpha Team; that he had seen them all die before, and didn’t think he could survive seeing it again.

He looked to his right at Cas, who smiled, brows raised in question, and Dean’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs, stomach turning sour at the very idea of losing him.

They left the training field and headed back toward the house, Cas’ hand sliding into his the moment they weren’t in front of the troops anymore- though everyone knew, it was still about keeping personal and professional appearances separate. Cas seemed happy. In fact, everyone seemed pretty happy and at ease, despite what they all knew they were about to face. Earlier, Dean had seen Lucifer and Sam, drinking coffee and leaning against the porch railing while Lucifer tried explaining to Sam why angels didn’t enter a vessel and suddenly absorb everything about what it was like to be human, about how it was two different minds separated within the same skull. And yeah, Dean still didn’t get it.

In the War Room, Savvy and Becky were working to continue taking calls and fill out paperwork; both laughing and joking. Samandriel had been appointed the main errand boy angel, constantly popping back and forth between Bobby’s and whatever task Naomi set him on. Dean had the sinking suspicion the angel was popping by the house more frequently than was necessary, making eyes at Becky and blushing profusely as she blatantly flirted, making Savvy grin and take pity on the angel, coming to his aid before his face permanently turned red, though Becky did a fair amount of blushing and making doe-eyes herself.

As they made their way toward the stairs, Dean stopped in the middle of the galley, Cas turning to look at him questioningly as the hunter cast his gaze about with the feeling that he’d forgotten to do something, that there must be something he was supposed to be doing.

The shorter man watched him curiously, eyes playing over his face as Dean continued to wrack his brain and came up empty on things that had to be done. For months, he had been running around in circles nonstop, but now they were on Stand-by until they got the word from the military and Tessa to head over to get a look of Detroit for themselves.

“I have no idea what to do now that we have down time,” Dean blurted out honestly.

The hand holding his gave a squeeze. “I believe Sam and the others are in the rec room watching  _The Avengers_ movie Savvy brought over with her.”

“I feel like I should just being doing something. Killing something,” he insisted, letting Cas lead him. “When was the last time we just did nothing?”

“You’d been turned into a girl and I’d just had my Grace ripped out,” Cas answered. “We were glued to each other for several days, remember?” At Dean’s chuckle, he glanced over his shoulder, an impish curve to his lips. “It was rather awkward having the sudden epiphany that what I felt for you was romantic in nature rather than just friendship, what with the current arrangement and my inability to go sort things out in solitude.”

Dean pulled on his hand, brows furrowed. “Wait. So, it what? Just hit you like a lightning bolt?”

“I’ve told you: as an angel, I didn’t understand all my feelings. I loved you and Sam both, but knew what I felt for you was somehow different from what I felt for your brother, was more intense. I thought it was because of our experiences together. I didn’t understand until I was human. It was a rather sudden and startling moment of clarity.”

Dropping his gaze as they continued up the stairs, Dean huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, well, I was a little slower on the uptake, with no Grace to blame for it. I had no clue how you felt until the day in the warehouse, and kissing you was an accident brought on by panic and relief.”

Castiel hummed in amusement. “I never thought I’d be grateful a building nearly collapsed with me inside.”

They reached the second floor, and continued to the stairs leading to the third.

“I was going to tell you,” Dean insisted. “That was what I’d been wanting to talk to you about.” The brunette faltered on the stairs and Dean looked up at him. “At the billiard, you said my soul assures yours that you won’t be abandoned, that that is what you fear. I couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing how much you meant to the people around you, but especially to me. I already told you I’d die for you. Hell, I tied my soul to yours to keep you alive, and yet you were still afraid of being left alone.” His voice had dropped and he shook his head. “And I would never do that. Could never, and wanted you to know exactly why, regardless of what came of it.”

Leaning forward, Cas kissed him, Dean stretching up to meet him half-way, the two of them smiling against each other’s mouths, before Cas pulled back, resting his forehead against Dean’s.

“What a strange road it took to get us here.”

Snorting, Dean shook his head. “Yeah, our lives have turned out absolutely nothing like I was expecting.”

Straightening, and continuing up the stairs with a shrug, Cas glanced over his shoulder to say, “Well, I suppose that’s the purpose of fate: to defy any and all expectation.”

They reached the third floor then, the two of them pausing to regard all the people already present. Sam and Lucifer were sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, eyes on the screen while Jo and Charlie sat curled up on the love seat.

He grinned toothily at the former angel. “Oh, it has definitely done that.”

Noticing them for the first time, the girls threw down the pillows off the couch and offered another of the afghans, without even taking their eyes away from the screen as Captain America confronted Loki.

Offering Cas a smirk, Dean made an ‘after you’ gesture toward the floor, the two of them taking a seat and settling in for the film.

“I feel like I’m missing a lot by not know their individual stories,” Lucifer commented, gesturing vaguely toward the TV.

Charlie held out a hand toward Dean. “Marathon!” she sing-songed.

He slapped it grinning. “Soon as we save the world-“

“-Again,” Jo interjected.

“Soon as we save the world again,  _Avengers_  movie marathon,” he declared.

The fallen angel quirked his head to the side as though considering this before his gaze slid over to Sam. The younger man gave a tentative smile and nod. The smile that crept over the blond’s face was fond and possessive in one and kind of made Dean want to freak out at the sight of it directed at his brother.

“I think I’d like that.”

 

 

The next couple of days went by according to plan. They did reconnaissance of the city before the day of the actual mission, making Dean feel fractionally better about the entire suicide mission they were actually going through with. On the day of the actual mission, with the beginning stages well underway, Dean found himself scowling at Tessa as she flicked blood off of her weapon.

“Thought you said only a few stragglers were to be expected.”

She looked at him. “Yes, Dean. The small sprays of water just before the dam breaks. The flood gates are about to open, did you really think it would only be one or two monsters making their way through to this side?”

He looked around at their team. Cas was seated against the cement wall of the alley, Savvy beside him with her head resting on his shoulder as they waited. Sam was at the other end of the alley mouth keeping watch.

Alpha Team had split into groups as soon as they’d gotten to the city, separating to take out any monsters currently wandering free.

According to Naomi, they had only hours before the wall broke. The other teams were currently getting into position to put up the containment field and then the wall. The idea of being a spider under a glass was becoming increasingly unsettling to the elder Winchester. He did not like the idea- the reality- that he and his family would be completely trapped, just like the monsters.

When he looked over at him, Cas lifted his head and offered a reassuring smile. It didn’t help.

“When the others check back in, we can find a place to settle in for a while,” Tessa said. “There’s a hotel lobby we can use just a few blocks from here. Our sector’s clear, so it’s a good bet the others are nearly finished with theirs as well.”

Moving closer, Sam jerked his head at Dean, gaze casting about anxiously. “Can I talk to you for a second before anyone gets here?”

When Dean nodded, Tessa stepped away, taking over Sam’s position of lookout, now that all they could do was wait for the others to come to them, as this was the appointed rendezvous spot.

“What’s up?”

The taller Winchester licked his lips, fidgeting as he didn’t quiet meet his brother’s eye. “It’s about Lucifer.”

“He and Michael are on separate teams,” Dean stated, because seriously, the last thing he wanted was for the two of them to get into a tiff just before they were supposed to be saving the world. Though to be fair, Michael had been appropriately cowed ever since he’d been kicked out on his ass. They’d had absolutely no more trouble out of him.

A blush made its way up his sibling’s neck and to his cheeks.

“Uh, no. I-it’s not about that.”

He cast a glance to the three people in the alley with them before he grabbed his brother’s arm to pull him even further away. The way he chanced nervous glances at his brother from under dark lashes reminded Dean of when they were kids and Sam had done something wrong. That was _definitely_ his guilty ‘please don’t be angry’ face.

“Spit it out,” Dean told him, folding his arms. “Did you two get in a fight? Dude, you piss him off, you fix it.”

His brother swallowed. “Actually, I think we might have a thing.” The blond arched a brow, waiting. “A, uh… oh geez.” He raked a hand through his hair before blurting, “Attraction. He and I have an attraction to each other.” Dean’s brows shot up. “We have this bond anyway, what with me being his vessel and having been in each other’s heads and having a unique understanding of each other, and now it’s gotten worse and complicated and I am kinda freaking out and please don’t be angry,” he said in a rush, clearly looking as terrified by his own admission as his brother’s reaction.

Dean just stared, dumbstruck. His brother was biting his bottom lip and staring nervously down at the scuffed toes of his boots.

Heaving a breath, Dean threw up a hand, shaking his head. “You just couldn’t settle for normal, could you?” The brunette looked up. “For all your talk of wanting it, you end up in a more messed up relationship than me.”

The taller of the two flushed even deeper scarlet. “We are  _not_  in a relationship-“

 

His brother snorted. “Yeah, okay. Like Lucy is gonna settle for anything else with the way he looks at you.” He waved dismissively. “I thought it was more possessive ‘my vessel, not yours, no touching’ crap, but it was a general ‘mine, get your own’ bit.” Clicking his tongue, Dean met his gaze again. “And you could have dated Sarah, man. Nice, relatively normal, rolls with the punches, kicks it in the ass  _Sarah_ , but you’re life wasn’t weird enough already so you just  _had_  to up the ante.”

“Dude, don’t make fun of me,” pleaded his younger sibling, wiping a hand over his face. “Just… tell me I’m being crazy or something. Help me make sense of it.”

Scoffing, Dean pointed over to where Cas and the others were waiting. “Dude. He is the cake in my pie-loving life that I fully plan on  _marrying_. We’re Winchesters. We, apparently, don’t  _do_  normal, sane, or sensible.”

Hazel eyes followed to where the former angel was, then back to his brother, widening with surprise. “You’re gonna marry Cas?” he asked in a low whisper.

Now it was Dean’s turn to look uncomfortable, dropping his arm and gaze, he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “No, Sam, I like him enough to keep him around, but not enough to want him forever. Of course I want to marry him.” He looked up quickly. “Don’t tell him though. We’re doing the whole dating and going slow thing, since this is his first relationship and I’m constantly sure I’m going to do something to ruin it.”

Sam coughed and dropped his gaze, trying and failing to bite back a grin. “Congrats, man. I’m happy for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean waved off the statement, even while secretly pleased. “Whatever, Sammy. You were having a girlish freak out because Lucifer asked you to go steady. Get back to that.”

Scowling, Sam held up a finger. “First off, we are not dating, okay? We had a-a  _moment_  or something in the kitchen when I was changing his bandages-“

“Nothing says romance like bloody bandages.”

“-and I think we’re both considering the idea of… of  _something_ , I don’t know,” Sam plowed ahead, unable to even articulate what they were. “It may be nothing and I’m just making a big deal, but I…”

“But you’re attracted to him,” supplied his brother. “Despite logic and common sense and that little voice in your head telling you to run screaming in the other direction.” Sam’s head and shoulders sagged in defeat. “Sam, if you are expecting me to get mad? I would remind you that, one, I plan on marrying a cake plucked from God’s own dessert tray-“

“That analogy really makes no sense, you know.”

Dean completely ignored him. “And _two_ , we are about to enter into a fight to save our _planet_ , our _race_ , and the races of both _Heaven and Hell_. So long as he doesn’t plan to make you his meat suit or destroy humanity anymore, I really don’t care if you are enemies, dating, or best friends who have sleepovers and braid each other’s  _hair_.” He folded his arms, staring pointedly at his brother. “Okay?”

Sam gave a single nod, whole body relaxing. “Okay.”

Which was all well and good, because that was when the first of the other teams materialized in a displacement of air and wind in the middle of the street, Lucifer immediately striding forward with business-like demeanor, eyes raking over each of them.

“Any problems?” he asked, gaze lingering on the two that had been resting while they waited.

“More monsters than expected,” Dean admitted, “but we’re fine. Sam here was having last minute jitters that we might not have enough people on the Alpha Team.”

The younger Winchester shot him a cross look, even while Lucifer glanced over his shoulder to watch more of their team arrive, five quickly becoming twenty, then thirty. “We’ll be fine, Sam. Too many soldiers with no clear way of communication can lead to chaos.” He met the brunette’s gaze. “Unless all the humans want to say ‘yes’ to an angel in order to have a reliable comm system-“

“No,” they both said.

The curl of his lips made Sam scowl at the angel’s twisted sense of humor.

“For the best,” the blond said. “We don’t have time to match up complimentary angels and humans.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean threw up his hands and moved over toward Michael. “Good with luck with that, Sammy. You’re his vessel, he’s  _your_ problem.”

They both watched as Dean and Michael conversed in low tones, the hunter’s expression grave and intolerant, while Michael’s expression was carefully blank, nodding occasionally to whatever Dean was telling him.

Leaning his head toward Lucifer, Sam said, “Anyone asks? I didn’t say this, but I think realizing he was the disobedient son _broke_ your brother.”

“Very broken,” Lucifer agreed. “It’s rather nice to not see him silently judging the rest of us. Silent judgment then leads to lectures, and _no one_ can lecture quite like Michael.” Their gazes met; a hint of a smile in the angel’s eyes.

Chuckling, Sam’s smile fell away as the reapers seemed to straightened as one, heads flicking around in alert. He looked at Tessa, whose gaze was focused on the parking garage at the main intersection down the street.

“What is it?”

“The containment field is in place,” she told him. “We’re stuck here until it’s finished.” Sucking in a deep breath, she shook herself. “It’s a very odd sensation to suddenly be cut off and tethered at the same time.”

Savvy was looking at her watch. She had a two-handed sword sheathed across her back. “Does that mean the timeline’s moved up?”

Looking over at his brother, Sam let out a short whistle and jerked his head. Both men came over, looking at the Reaper.

“What’s up?”

“Change of plans,” Tessa said, just as the overcast sky seemed to grow darker, black clouds rolling in with a low rumble of thunder. “Looks like we’ll be starting ahead of schedule.”

The Hellhounds all began to pace and paw nervously, some lowering themselves, ready to spring, as low snarls emanated from their throats. Crowley and the other demons all had their eyes switched to solid color, allowing them to see whatever it was the humans could not as their entire force spread out in the street.

They all watched, tension rising, as the dark clouds began to swirl, the wind picking up like a bad storm were blowing in, a gale about to hit. Lightening sparked and cracked in the clouds, the beginning of a funnel slowly forming. Watching it from his position on the front line with his brother and the angels, the younger Winchester made a decision.

“We live through this?” he began, nudging Lucifer beside him. The blond turned his head to meet his gaze. “I’m introducing you to my favorite coffee place.”

A slow smile spread over the archangel’s face before he looked back to the increasingly violently churning sky, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Oh, then we are definitely living through this.”

Dean looked over at his brother. “You ready for this?”

Readjusting his grip on the shotgun in his hands, Sam snorted. “Are we ever?”

Thunder rumbled loudly, a crack of lightening striking out and hitting the ground. Several of them threw up an arm to shield their eyes, the noise nearly deafening as the concrete trembled beneath their feet. More lightning struck, jagged ribbons of electricity that struck buildings and pavement, shredding the concrete and asphalt like it were mere paper, making their hair stand on end.

Several more bolts hit the ground so hard the humans had the turn their heads away, shielding their eyes even while the light seared through their closed lids. Holes were blasted into the street where the lightning struck. Sam heard the sound of wings flaring as the angels’ fully visible wings snapped out. The warriors of Heaven turning their bodies so as to protect the humans closest to them as shards of rock and gravel shot through the air like gunfire.

Lucifer yanked Sam down into a crouch, arms, body, and wings folding around the hunter just as Gabriel did the same for Dean and Cas. Light flared so brightly Sam thought he might go blind even with his eyes squeezed shut, barely able to make out Lucifer’s soft murmurings against his ear as the sound of an explosion ripped through the air and made the ground surge and fall beneath their feet.

Dear God, if this was what was happening before the battle even started, Sam had no idea how they could be expected to survive, much less win. Cars that had been left parked on the street exploded in sequence, and Dean could feel the heat of the flames without even seeing them, the roar and noise dangerously reminding him of Hell and the Rack. Gabriel kept repeating ‘Don’t look, don’t look’ hands on the backs of Dean and Cas’ heads to keep their eyes protected.

The wind ripped violently around them with the force of the explosions, as the wall between dimensions viciously broke, and Purgatory all but flooded into their world. Gritting his teeth, Dean pressed the heels of his hands harder into his ears, trying to keep them from bursting as air was pushed and pulled, as talons dug into cement and wings beat air, as all manner of creature oozed into their realm of existence and screamed and roared and cried out as one.

Savvy was clinging to Anna, fists twisted in the front of the angel’s jacket, eyes clenched shut and lips fervently whispering a prayer that was lost in the cacophony of sound and chaos.

Then there was silence.

Silence so loud, at first Dean thought he’d gone deaf, looking worriedly at Castiel as Gabriel cautiously released them, gravel crunching underfoot as he shifted. Expression hard, Cas gave a sharp nod, before he and the others all began to rise, the angels folding in their wings. All around them, swords were unsheathed and guns cocked. Meg rolled her shoulders, fingers flexing on the sword in her hand as the Hellhound beside her snarled viciously, hackles raised.

The storm clouds had receded, but now the sky was filled with huge beasts that beat their wings- feathered and leather alike- against the air. Forms clung to the sides of buildings with huge talons and claws, some of them humanoid, most of them not. Reptilian and barbed tails flicking the air. Chimeras and rotting corpses stood waiting on the ground, while human shades swayed back and forth like serpents.

For a long moment, the two armies seemed to hold their breath and nobody moved.

Then, there was a snap of wings unfurling, all the angels launching themselves into the air and forward with a battle cry. Crowley gave a shrill whistle and all the hounds of hell rushed forward with snarls and roars so terrible it made Dean’s skin crawl and hair stand on end. Everything was suddenly in motion, monsters rushing forward as the grounded warriors fired their weapons… and the battle to save the world began.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

            There was no time for hesitation as the monsters on the ground all rushed forward in a wave of claws and teeth and screams. Half of the reapers shifted into their ghostly form, sweeping in and out through the masses of monsters, ghosts, and the undead, plowing their numbers down.

            Sam was carefully taking aim and firing at the gargoyle looking creatures that hung to the sides of buildings, shooting them down as they launched themselves forward, massive leathery wings snapping out as the creatures prepared to dive bomb the group.

            The hellhounds that Crowley commanded launched themselves at a chimera, the wispy black hounds clinging to the furred and scaled beast, as its heads whipped around and its snake like tail thrashed and snapped its fangs at the dogs. The snake head grabbed one of the hounds, pulling it off the rest of its body, and flung it into the cement wall of an office building, the wall splintering under the impact as the demonic canine let out a shriek of pain.

            Castiel, Dean, and Savvy were in a loose circle back-to-back, taking on zombies and ladies in white as they tumbled over each other with hands outstretched to get to the humans who occasionally had to dive out of the way and throw themselves to the ground as the flying monsters swooped down with talons outstretched. Some of the others on their team weren’t so lucky. One had already grabbed Meg, claws digging into the material of her jacket as she twisted to get free. She slipped out of the garment, hitting the ground and rolling free as Sam fired several shots into the furry chest of the creature, its barbed tail flicking as its beak opened to let out a scream of pain. Its body fell like a brick from the sky, crushing the carriage of a car.

            “Meg?” Dean demanded as the demon tried to push herself to her hands and feet.

            Savvy darted over, shoving her sword into a decrepit corpse of an old man that was shambling toward the brunette. The demonness was up and waving her hand at Dean as she retrieved her dropped weapon and coat, sliding it back on with fluid ease before spinning around to decapitate a woman with a gaping maw.

            Overhead was a fighting frenzy. The angels moved in strategic formation as they took on what looked like a Chinese dragon, its serpentine body more than twenty feet long, bloody gashes already covering its body as Anna and Balthazar, Michael and Lucifer darted in and past and around, their swords flashing on every pass, splitting the scale covered flesh in a spray of blood. Roars and cries filled the air, making the windows of the buildings around them shudder, some exploding, raining down glass on where Meg and Savvy were battling a creature that seems half praying mantis and half centipede.

            Gabriel appeared overhead, multiple sets of tawny colored wings flared out above them, shielding them from the shower of large glass shards as they struggled to keep the insect scythe claws away, Savvy swinging viciously with her sword at the joints of its arms. Quick as a ninja, Meg used one of its legs to climb onto the abomination’s back, climbing hand over foot on its barbed neck to shove her angel blade into the soft leather underpart of its neck, right under the jaw and into the creature’s head. Tucking his wings, Gabriel dropped out of the sky, then furled his wings back out and shot in to sweep Savvy off her feet, flying her out of the way of more falling glass and the creature’s body as Meg rode it to the ground, teeth bared in a vicious grin of delight.

            Machete gripped tight, Dean swung out at a vampire with solid white eyes as it threw itself at him, mouth of sharp teeth wide open. The blade bit into the flesh of its neck, cutting easily through sinew and bone, and making the head roll to one side as the lifeless body fell with a flat thump to the pavement beneath his feet.

            “Dean!” Cas cried out.

            The hunter didn’t have time to turn, to see what was coming for him, before the former angel was tackling him to the ground, narrowly avoiding a pair of sharp talons as they swept through the space the hunter had just been occupying, massive leathery wings blowing dirt and dust into his eyes as it continued past, shrieking angrily at the loss of its prey.

            Overhead, Michael placed the heels of his hands together, then thrust them forward down by his side, firing a beam of holy light that plowed into a dragon, forcefully slamming its body into the side of a building with such force it knocked a hole clean through the wall, making concrete and glass crash to the street, the ground shaking with the impact.

            Undeterred, another flier swept down toward the grounded warriors, screeching a high pitched noise that made Dean’s teeth hurt and his ears feel as though they were bleeding. They were all forced to dive for cover, but Dean could hear the scream of someone that had been too slow in acting and was caught. The thing that looked unnervingly like a winged monkey, climbed to dizzying heights, victim in tow, before pointedly letting them go. The sound of the scream was only slightly less horrible than the slam of the body hitting pavement. Unable to be reaped or not, there would be no getting up from that.

            Hands grabbed at Dean, too small to be Cas’, and it was Tessa pulling him to his feet, the Reaper looking unruffled as she yanked him up, reaching out to Cas with her other hand.

            “You’re too exposed here,” she said simply, the world bleeding together in a sickening swirl of color as the ground seemed to be yanked out from under his feet.

            The world solidified into the interior of a warehouse of some sort, the other members of their fighting party looking around with equal bewilderment as Reapers and demons transported them from the open street to the building down the block from where they had been fighting, a building with only two points of entry. Tessa and the others vanished from sight again.

            Twisting, Dean’s green eyes searched the faces around him. “Cas? Sam?”

            The former angel pushed his way over to Dean and laid a hand on his arm, all while trying to catch his breath. Blue eyes narrowed on one of the entrances as long, bony fingers curled around the frame, a wendigo crawling along the wall and to the rafters overhead like some kind of giant spider, black eyes glittering as it peered down at them assessingly from the shadows.

            Making his way through the group, the younger Winchester said, “I’m here,” patting his brother’s back with one hand.

            “You okay?”

            The brunette nodded, doubled over and heaving for breath. Eyes tracking the monster still unnoticed by the two brothers and stalking them from overhead, Cas reared back, throwing his angel blade in a blur of movement that had the wendigo’s lifeless body hitting the floor with a sickening splat a moment later. The Winchesters watched as he retrieved the blade, flicking the blood off with a sharp movement of his wrist.

            Straightening, Sam eyed him. “I don’t suppose you’re able to hear anything going on on angel radio?”

            Shaking his head, Cas shifted his grip on his weapon as more creatures began bottlenecking into the building. “Lucifer and the others are fine, Sam,” he said.

            Another praying mantis hybrid slithered forward, insect legs clicking in rapid succession against the concrete floor. Raising his gun, Sam fired off a shot, the creature darting to the side and clear of the attack with snake-like reflexes, mandibles clicking. The air in the warehouse shifted as Crowley, Gabriel, Gabbie, and Anna all appeared in rapid succession, the half-archangel collapsing to one knee in exhaustion as Crowley swept out an arm, his finely tailored suit still impeccable. An invisible force swept the oncoming monster violently to the side, pinning it to the wall as several hell hounds pounced and tore into it, claws and teeth tearing off whole strips and tossing them to the side.

            Panicked eyes swept to the angels now with them, focused on Gabriel as he laid a hand to his daughter’s shoulder and she straightened with renewed energy, giving her father a grateful nod.

            “Gabriel?” Sam questioned, sparing him only a glance as the hunter raised his gun and shot a snake woman right between the eyes as she crawled and slithered her way forward. “What’s the situation?” he demanded, voice tight.

            Waving him off, Gabriel flung his arms down by his sides, a blade gleaming in each hand as he threw himself at a shambling group of zombies, stabbing and slicing with quick, almost graceful movements, the bodies all collapsing as one, leaving him standing poised in the center of the carnage.

            “Don’t worry, Sam,” the archangel told him. “Things are fine, but my daughter is only part angel and I’m not leaving her.”

            Dean looked to Anna as she grabbed a Lady in White by the back of the head, fingers curling in her hair as holy light poured from the woman’s eyes and mouth, making Dean flinch away and shield his own eyes.

“We’ve closed ranks around this building,” she said, brushing dust off her hands. “This is where we make our stand until the wall goes up and the barrier comes down,” she told him, ducking as he swung and decapitated a vampire. “The Reapers and demons are the first line of defense on the ground outside. My brothers in the air. We’ll try to keep as many of them back as possible.”

Shaking his head, Dean ducked as a zombie the size of a linebacker launched itself at him, coming up with his shoulder in the man’s stomach and machete coming up and through the man’s spinal column. He used the huge man’s momentum against him, flipping him over his shoulder and flat onto his back, before yanking his weapon back out and shoving it down through the man’s forehead, bringing his writhing to an end.

“But doesn’t that leave just the three of them out there,” he questioned, “if you and Gabriel are both in here?”

            A beast from the other side lunged and it was Sam that shot it down, the corpse losing momentum midair and crashing with a sick thud of dead weight. Out of ammunition, he tossed the gun to the side and pulled out his machete. No one was really bothering to reload, they just grabbed up fully loaded weapons and used them as they found them, or fought with blades and other weapons when they couldn’t get to one of the gun caches.

            “Why are you here then?” demanded Dean, driving Ruby’s knife to the hilt into a lamia as it slithered with inhuman speed and attacked him. Its tail lashed wildly, knocking Sam off his feet and sending a table flying. Dean’s hands were covered in blood of all different colors at that point, all of it turning black as it soaked into the material of his jacket. The lamia bled green, but it was still as slick and sticky as the red stuff when he yanked his knife out and had to wipe his hands on the denim of his pants. “Shouldn’t you be out there?”

            “We did not want to leave you without backup if things went south in here where we can’t see you,” she explained, jumping on the back of…  _something_ , she took its head in her hands and deftly snapped its neck, then rode it to the ground before she and Savvy took on a beast that looked a mix between a cobra and an insect. “If they need me, they’ll let me know. Besides, we wanted to be able to keep an eye on you.”

            Even as Dean fought his own battles, he was more than a little awed but how utterly ruthless Anna was in a fight, how she immediately went for the weakest points in a creatures anatomy, breaking joints and snapping necks in a way that would have been vicious were it not for the expressionless and methodical way she did it. It somehow made the display that much scarier to watch.

            So many years of the angels having worked alongside each other and even having been in the same garrison served them well, even all these decades later. She and Castiel wordlessly collaborated with yet another hybrid, Cas lashing out with a near invisible sword that pulsed with power, inflicting a series of lacerations across the beast’s body, blood spraying from the wounds in a fine mist while Anna climbed the creature’s back and pried its mouth open, folding the serpentine skull back on itself, before ripping the entire top of the head off and tossing it to the side.

            If ever Anna went darkside… they would really have a problem on their hands, and Dean shuddered at the thought, at the mental image that provided.

            “Without those things flying overhead, we’re good here,” shouted Dean, he and Sam working to gank another Lady in White, her face and hands contorted. Sam held her from behind while Dean drove his knife in and she collapsed in a pile of ash between them.

            Anna actually seemed a little hesitant in replying, then clearly thought ‘To hell with it’ and said, “That’s not actually what we’re worried about.”

            “End of the world and yet you have something  _else_  more pressing you’re concerned with?” he demanded.

“They’re worried we might take the opportunity to do away with you in the chaos of battle,” offered Crowley, walking over to Dean’s side, casually even- the bastard- as one of his hell hounds tore into another lamia.

Dean gave Anna a look.

“Old habits die hard,” she shrugged, jumping up and driving her sword through a chimera prepared to ambush them from the rafters.

There was a series of explosions outside, making a wide grin stretch across Dean’s features.

“Looks like someone found the grenades.”

That was when something snaked around his ankle and jerked him off his feet, the impact of his chin on the concrete filling his mouth with copper as his bit into his cheek. The thing dragged him across the floor with a scream, hands flailing for something to grab onto.

“Dean!”

He tried twisting onto his back as he came face to face with a beast that was the body of a lion, with the torso of a woman coming out of its chest, and the head of a wolf snarling at him as the woman’s arms and her taloned fingers latched onto Dean, piercing through his skin with no resistance, ripping a violent scream of pain from his throat as ten sharp knives dug into him with the intent of crushing his ribcage and chest cavity.

Just as quickly, the huge claws were torn back out of his body as a Hellhound sunk its teeth into the chimera’s throat and hung on, clawing fiercely as the monster tried to shake it off, backing away from Dean as Sam and Cas- who had apparently found a stash of firearms- unloaded round after round into the beast’s hide. Dean scrambled backward with his hands and elbows until hands grabbed him under the arms and hauled him up to his feet, Cas’ terrified expression filling his vision, hands playing over the ruined remains of Dean’s shirt.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “See? No blood.”

A frown of confusion marred the angel’s features, as he looked to where the dead body lay unmoving. “But it… I thought it…”

Taking the gun from his hands, Dean fired a shot right over Cas’ shoulder, jerking the angel back to the battle still going on all around them. “I’m fine, Cas,” he said again, feeling his stomach twist at the lie.

They just had to get through this battle.

An explosion outside made everything in the warehouse go very still as the ground shuddered violently beneath their feet. Dean could only imagine another wave of monsters pouring through from Purgatory, lightening cracking with deafening noise as it struck the ground in rapid succession outside. Dean could feel the electricity filling the air, making his hair stand on end, heart hammering against his ribs. The sudden silence, like the world was holding its breath was more terrifying than the roars and growls that had been choking the air moments earlier.

The roof of the building was suddenly peeled back, ripped off like torn paper wrapping, a loud protest of shredding metal screeching painfully in Dean’s ears. Suddenly all the angels were standing with them, looking up with the same horror at the  _colossus_  looking down at them, inspecting the tiny humans like ants in a box.

It was some sort of dragon, though not the kind with scales. Its enormous body was made of hard black plates that seemed to fit over each other, huge black horns protruding from its head, with a shaggy mane that fell across its forehead and down its back. The monsters that they had been fighting slunk away in terror in the face of this new beast, of a predator much more threatening than all of them combined. The Winchester’s other allies quickly joined them, demons, angels, reapers, hunters, and regular humans all staring up at the impossibly huge monstrosity bigger than the very building they were fighting in.

Dean swallowed thickly, knowing full well that this was it. This was their end. How the others would destroy this thing even after the wall was in place, he had no idea, but it wouldn’t be the current team to bring it down. At best, they might be able to slow it down.

The monster drew in a breath and then snorted through its nose, the sheer force of the air staggering them all back, causing hunters and demons to crouch and brace themselves. They cupped their hands over their ears as it sucked in another breath, bowed up and  _roared_.

The noise of it was all the horrible sounds of the world rolled into one and Dean thought his ears would bleed and his head would explode and he might be sick all at once.

Someone was shouting orders, but he couldn’t make sense of it, he tried to open his eyes and get them to focus, to find Cas and Sam. They needed to try and escape, to regroup and plan. The enclosed part of the city was big enough they could-

The monster roared again and Dean was oddly reminded of all the screams of Hell, of rotting, burned flesh, and torturous agony. He may have passed out for a second. It was Hell and death and being ripped apart at a molecular level all in one and no amount of cupping his ears spared him the agony of that sound. The roar ended and left him gasping and choking for air as though he had been drowning, reflexively fighting the hands that grabbed at him, that cupped his jaw and tilted his face up, that forced him to look up into eyes of blue.

Without waiting for Dean to speak, Cas pressed his mouth hard against Dean’s in a kiss the hunter realized in an agonizing moment meant good-bye.

The angel pulled away to look at Dean. “Close your eyes and don’t open them again until it’s quiet.”

Dean looked around frantically and saw the angels all lined up, each of them with their wings out and ready to take to the air, and Dean knew why Cas told him to close his eyes. They were limited in their human guises.

His eyes darted back to Castiel, who only forced Dean’s head down.

Dean didn’t see what happened. He felt the power in the air though, felt how it was like everything condensed down and pressed in on him from all sides. His head was reeling and the explosion that shook the ground like the earth was being ripped into made him feel sick. He yelled for Sam, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos, by noises so horrific and inhuman they made his blood feel like it must be boiling in his veins. It left him screaming from the pain of it. He almost wanted it to be the end for him, the end of this agonizing sound that went on forever, the world shaking so hard beneath him he thought it would open up and swallow him whole.

Hands grabbed him, tried to get him to rise, to move, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know who it was, but he resisted and kept his eyes clamped shut, still fearing he might boil out from all the light that poured into his skull through closed lids.

“C’mon, Dean-o,” growled Meg impatiently. “I’m saving your life here.”

“Sam, Cas,” was all he told her.

“We’ve got them, too. We have everyone. Come on!” she ordered, pulling him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding his arm around her shoulders as she half-dragged him off.

He felt the change when they were no longer in the decimated building and out on the road they’d originally abandoned as being too exposed. More roaring and sounds of battle and explosions of power made Dean fumble. Hands grabbed at him, holding him upright, voices yelled in every direction.

The world seemed to drop out beneath his feet then, the sound distorting so much Dean thought he blacked out again. He heard someone retching. He heard groans of pain and someone sobbing in agony.

“Dean, look at me,” Meg’s voice ordered.

He shook his head. “Cas said not to-“

“We’re inside an underground parking garage,” she interrupted. “You won’t be able to see them.”

He blinked his eyes open, finding pitch black eyes regarding him. The solid color of her eyes made it hard to decipher emotion, but her brows were furrowed and lips pressed together tightly.

“Can you see me?” she asked, voice carefully neutral. He frowned, trying to push himself up to a sitting position, realizing he was laying on the ground. He had passed out after all.

His gaze flicked around incomprehensibly. “Of course I can. Your eyes are showing.”

“They’re the only thing keeping my host from going blind,” she stated, heaving a sigh of relief. “You’re lucky then. Others didn’t hear the warning and didn’t get off so unscathed.”

He shoved himself to a sitting position, both of them staring at the ceiling distrustfully as the ground trembled and shook. He looked at the demon, then around at all the different faces. “Sam? Cas?”

“They’re both fine,” Tessa assured him, coming to kneel by his side and shooing the demon away. When Meg wandered off to continue checking on others, Tessa looked him over, eyes searching his face and then his body before coming back up to meet his gaze. “How bad is the damage, Dean?

“What?” he asked unintelligently.

She glanced off to the side, and Dean followed her gaze to a group of wounded warriors all being looked after by other Reapers. Some with bodies contorted in impossible, painful ways. “I can’t reap you,” she explained, meeting his gaze again. “We can’t reap any of them, there is nowhere for us to go with the souls right now because we’re as trapped as you are. I can’t reap you, Dean, but can you still fight?” she asked lowly, eyes darting over his shoulder to where Cas and Sam were coming their way.

The cries and sobs of the undying filled his ears and he shook his head. “I’m fine. All of this blood isn’t mine. I’m fine.” He shoved to his feet and swayed, his knees threatening to buckle under him. Tessa grabbed him, keeping him upright as his hands went to his head again. “God in Heaven, what on earth was that? That was worse than Cas trying to say ‘hello’.” He forced himself to stand under his own power, even as the ground shook mightily and they all looked up at the concrete above their heads again, wondering how long it would hold or if it would suddenly all cave in. He looked at Meg in bewilderment. “Why bring us here when it can come caving in any moment?”

“Would you rather be crushed instantly or to die with that noise boiling your blood from the inside until your brain explodes?”

“I’d rather be crushed,” he said immediately.

She inclined her head. “You’re welcome.”

“Dean!” Sam called, moving over to him with Cas in tow. His little brother looked him over. “Are you alright?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“We’re fine,” his sibling assured him. “The demons and reapers got us out in time,” his voice went distant as he spoke, eyes focused on the ceiling, where somewhere out there, the angels were fighting an impossible battle. And Lucifer was with them. Hazel eyes darted back to Tessa. “Can you hear what’s going on?”

The Reaper shook her head. “It’s all strategic instruction. ‘Come at it from the flank. Find a weak spot on the underside. It’s charging for another electrical attack’.”

His younger brother’s terrified eyes swept to his, and for once, Dean had nothing to offer. He had no idea what would happen, and whatever optimism he’d felt the day before about them actually standing a decent shot of surviving, of winning, had been dashed the moment the entire roof of the warehouse had been ripped off like a child tearing into a bag of candy.

The ground shook again, harder, concrete cracking above their heads, thin veins spreading out in spider web patterns. There was an explosion above ground and for one awful minute it was like all the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere, a horrible sensation that even had he been capable of drawing in a breath, there would have been nothing there to breathe.

Meg was gripping Dean’s arm. “We need to get out of here and relocate. Now.” She looked to Tessa and Gabbie. “Grab them.”

The females nodded and suddenly Dean found himself once again above ground, coughing on the dust of demolished buildings and blinking in the too harsh light that glinted off the white and gray. The ground seemed to sway beneath his feet and he realized part of his disorientation came from his way of transport. Apparently, he was use to the angel express, but not so much demon teleportation.

Figures stood haggard and breathing heavily against the image of a half demolished building in front of them, the black behemoth’s limp body motionless. Dean shoved away from the demoness by his side, staggering toward his angel when he saw him. Sam rushed forward and grabbed Lucifer just as the angel slumped to one knee, panting for breath and holding his bloody side, more blood pouring down one side of his face.

For a long moment, nothing moved and Dean turned to regard all the other warriors, looking at the angels for reaffirmation.

“Is that it? Did we win? Is the world saved?”

The angels all looked tiredly at each other, for once, the worse for wear, before Michael opened his mouth and was cut off by the sound of the monstrosity rousing, enough strength left in its body to try and pull itself out of the rubble it was laying in, to stand and continue to fight.

Cas stiffened at Dean’s side and pulled away, reaching for the enchanted sword he’d been using, but Dean grabbed his hand and didn’t let go. “It’s okay, Cas,” he assured him. “We’ll go together,” he said, just as the feeling of all the air being displaced once again left him gasping for oxygen, angels, reapers, and demons all looking around rapidly.

The reapers looked the most startled.

“It’s down,” Tessa screamed, pointing to her subordinates. “Get the dead out of here! Move!”

The behemoth was pulling itself out of the rubble while the reapers darted around to those who were beyond saving. Dean fell a step away from Castiel, their hands slipping apart, while Cas stood in transfixed horror, staring at the creature not even his siblings at full power had been able to bring down.

Blood began pouring from the wounds Dean had accrued earlier, the talons that had ripped through him like confetti suddenly manifesting as he sagged down to his knees, coughing wetly as blood began filling his lungs. He drew back the hand at his mouth and saw it covered in scarlet.

The sound was what caught Cas’ attention, his face paling in horror as he rushed forward, mouth forming Dean’s name in a scream as the hunter collapsed to the pavement. Blood covered hands hovered over Dean’s chest, pressing down like that would somehow close all the gaping wounds in Dean’s body.

Sam’s face came into view above him next, terrified and already streaked with tears, lips moving nonsensically, then screaming over his shoulder as more hands pressed down on Dean’s injuries, trying to keep his life from bleeding out.

Tessa knelt serenely by his side, apparently no longer visible to the others as she smiled at him.

“It’s almost over,” she promised, reaching out to run a hand over his hair.

His arm flailed vaguely, fingers curling fruitlessly in the back of Cas’ shirt as all the yelling and chaos around him seemed to quiet, still just as active and frantic, but detached.

A strange, yet familiar chuckle sounded in his ears, a perfumed smelling breeze sweeping through their ranks just as Lucifer and Gabriel rushed to Dean’s side, both of them laying hands on him, Gabriel’s fingers brushing his temple.

“I thought I told you,” a voice said, a figure materializing mid-step from a swirl of leaves and mist on the breeze, “to have faith, Dean.”

Gabriel lifted a blood covered hand in confusion, before pressing his entire hand to Dean’s temple again, shaking his head in disbelief when nothing happened. Lucifer shoved his hands away and cradled the sides of Dean’s head in both his hands, face set in determination.

The elder Winchester stared in shock as God walked past all of them and forward, unnoticed by anyone but Dean, looking incredibly small in front of the colossal beast struggling, but determinedly trying to rise from the ruined structure. Michael and the others were standing ready to throw themselves forward in one final attack, weapons gripped tight and faces set.

Dean could only watch as God made a simple gesture, an infuriatingly simple gesture, like he were swatting at a gnat that annoyed him, and the threat to all of them merely  _collapsed,_ dead. The battle was over, just like that, in a wave of his hand.

Pivoting, the creator of everything seemed to meet Dean’s gaze, offering an almost smug smirk, as he winked one ever-changing eye at him, before he vanished from sight. All the while more of their allies crowded around the elder Winchester’s form, none of their efforts having any effect. In his peripheral, Dean watched as Death came to kneel, cane in hand, beside Tessa, one hand reaching forward to brush across the blond’s forehead.

“You’ve done well, Dean,” Death told him, sounding both proud and, oddly enough, fond.

The moment Death’s hand came to rest against his forehead, Dean closed his eyes on a sigh…and died.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

 

He woke up in a white room. Frowning, Dean blinked several times. ‘Room’ wasn’t exactly appropriate to describe where he was. The word described a solid structure, an enclosed space with walls and a door. There were no walls, or ceiling, really. In every direction there was just whiteness, the floor solid beneath him as he pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to force his brain to process whatever had happened to land him wherever he was.

They’d been fighting a battle…

He shot to his feet with sudden, dawning horror. He’d  _died_. No, no, he couldn’t die! Cas! And Sam! They needed him; _Cas_ needed him. He’d promised never to abandon the angel, and neither Heaven or Hell was gonna steal him away from the angel now that they’d finally gotten together. He wasn’t going to make Cas live through his greatest fear of being left alone, the thought of what the angel must be going through making him feel sick.

Whirling around frantically, he came to a sudden stop at the sight of the man standing before him, as though waiting to be noticed.

The man- God- smiled warmly. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “I’m dead,” he said.

It was part panic, part uncomprehending bewilderment. It didn’t make sense and needed to be fixed. He couldn’t be dead. This needed to be fixed, be undone, made as though it had never happened.

God stepped forward, his form shifting slightly as he did, so that he looked similar yet different than he had a moment ago. “Yes. You fought bravely and died a hunter’s death.”

Raising a hand, the blond shook his head. “No, you don’t understand,” he exclaimed. God arched a brow, and yeah, it probably wasn’t a good idea to snap or raise your voice at God. He purposefully tried to make his voice more neutral, beseeching. “I can’t be dead. My brother and Cas _need_ me. I need them.” He shook his head. “I don’t want my own Heaven and a false version of them, I just want  _them_.”

Breathing in deeply, God placed an arm around Dean and began leading him gently, fingers squeezing the hunter’s shoulder.

“I want to show you something.”

They walked a few paces before God swept a hand across the air like he were wiping steam off of a mirror. Before their eyes, a series of images appeared, like surveillance feeds. The bottom one showed his blood-covered body still on earth, cradled in Cas’ arms. His skin was disturbingly pale, the blood that should have given his flesh color covering the pavement instead. The angel looked fierce and devastated in one; tear streaked though he was, he was demanding that the demon kneeling beside them must be able to _do_   _something_. Sam was yelling the same thing at Michael, fists curled in the front of the archangel’s jacket, but he just shook his head, neither he nor Crowley meeting their gazes.

In the background, Meg was irate and throwing an absolute fit, hurling or hitting whatever she could get her hands on. Then suddenly, they were all yelling at each other in a mix of desperation and hopelessness, as grief and the sense of being wronged grew to a boiling point.

Dean’s green eyes drifted to the other video feed that showed Gabriel, Anna, and Lucifer attacking a delicate looking gate that shimmered like mother of pearl. The angels flew full force into the gate and fired concentrated beams of smiting power at it, doing everything to get past the gilded blockade that looked as though it should have shattered under the simplest of their attacks. Dean had never seen any of them look so terrifyingly furious.

“You’ve inspired them to attack the very gates of Heaven- _their home_ \- to try and retrieve your soul,” God stated softly.

The hunter looked at him in shock. “That’s Heaven? They’re attacking  _Heaven_?”

The being beside him shrugged. “Well, I suppose they have good reason to angry. I did ensure they wouldn’t be able to save you as you lay dying, and when they failed, they immediately came to retrieve you.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t allow that either.”

Dean looked at Him, brows drawn together. “But…  _why_?” Seriously, as many times as they had come back to life, and considering they had just saved the freaking planet, Dean thought he’d fucking earned another free pass when it came to dying.

God inclined His head toward the images. “Because you needed to see. Because they needed to learn.” Rather than being angry that the angels had launched an assault on their home, a fond smile teased the corners of His mouth, eyes on the screen before He turned his back, motioning for Dean to follow. “There’s something else I want to show you.”

With one last lingering look over his shoulder at the images of his friends and family in the grips of their grief and rage, Dean hurried to catch up with the father of the angels.

“You see, Dean,” He began, “you and your brother are the product of something very special.”

“Making us the perfect vessels for Michael and Lucifer,” the younger of the two recited. His eye roll was automatic and he immediately flinched, gazing worriedly at God.

The man beside him smiled in amusement as they walked through the white void. “Do they look like they need you or your brother to walk the earth?” He questioned, arching a brow.

Confused, the hunter shook his head. “Yeah, but that’s because you did that. Gave them vessels they wouldn’t burn through.”

“Because their _motives_ for being on earth changed,” He pointed out as the white darkened, became a swirl of dim light and shadow, then into obscure shapes around them Dean couldn’t make out. God snapped His fingers. “Let’s have a little light,” He said, and Dean wondered if He wasn’t being ironic.

Sconces on the walls illuminated, Dean turning in surprise at the round room they found themselves in. Above them was a half circle walkway and iron stairs leading down, the walls lined with outdated instruments and panels. In the center of the room was a large under lit table and world map. Further in and through a stone archway, lights flickered on revealing an extensive library and massive telescope.

Baffled, Dean looked to the man beside him, noting His appearance had shifted again. “What is this place?”

Moving over to a table with a chess board apparently in mid-game, God idly moved one of the pieces. “You see Dean, your mother was the product of a famous line and legacy, but so was your _father_ , though he never came to realize it.” Folding His hands behind His back, God began a slow circle around the room as He explained. “There weren’t always only hunters fighting back the monsters of the night. Once, they held a tentative alliance with the Men of Letters, scholars and researchers who dedicated their entire lives to the study of the supernatural. Admittance into their ranks was a privilege afforded by bloodline, passed on from father to son. John Winchester was meant to inherit this legacy, but your grandfather, Henry Winchester, was killed in 1958 by the demon knight Abaddon, as were all the active Men of Letters.

‘Your father was meant to become one of the Men of Letters. Your mother a hunter. These two factions that had had a tenuous, yet mutually beneficial partnership for centuries would finally be joined through the tying of the bloodlines. _That_ was the _purpose_ of bringing your parents together, not so that you could be the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. You were meant for something better than being the pawns in my children’s squabbles.”

Dean snorted, casting his eyes away and down, one hand reaching out and fiddling with some of the pieces on the map on the table in the center of the room.

“Hunters are dying off,” God said. “Their isolation even from each other is causing too many to die young when had they had better information, more backup, if they were plugged into a better network of hunters… they would have survived, lived longer, not left orphaned children behind. Humanity would be safer if the soldiers on the front lines had more reliable information and better training.”

Frowning, the blonde raised his head, suddenly lost in the conversation. “That I well know. It’s all I seem to see. Tell me something I don’t know.”

God spread His hands, gesturing to the base around them. “This is your inheritance, Dean. Yours and Sam’s.” The hunter blinked. “This is a place of study and education. A safe harbor and refuge. _This_ is where you and Sam were meant to make a difference. It has many, _many_ secrets and rooms and levels to explore and discover, so I’ll leave that to _you_ rather than spoiling the fun.” He offered a one-sided smile, looking amused and fond. “This is where you find your  _balance_ , Dean.”

Even as He said the words, He held out a hand, an open box in His palm with a complicated key in its center. He offered it to the elder Winchester.

Dean stared at the key, and then his eyes drifted up to the man offering it. “I’m dead,” he said simply.

Amusement stretched God’s mouth into a grin, His shifting eyes warm and teasing. “When have you ever been known to stay dead, Dean Winchester?”

 

 

 

 

Dean’s eyes flew open as his body sucked in a sharp gulp of breath, his body rising up with the effort, like he were bursting through the surface of water after nearly drowning. He gasped and sputtered, hearing sudden exclamations of surprise as hands grabbed ahold of him. He flailed against them instinctively, disoriented and blinking rapidly, trying to bring the world that seemed to lurch and spin around him back into focus.

“Dean! Dean! Calm down! It’s us!”

That voice Dean would always know even if he died a thousand times and lived a million years.

“Sam,” he croaked, voice a rasp.

Then he suddenly had an armful of Sam Winchester, all long limbs and enormous body, nearly threatening to squeeze the newly given life right back out of him.

“I’m alright, Sam,” Dean said, holding back tightly, remembering the expression that had been on his brother’s face in the aftermath of Dean’s demise. “I’m okay.”

The taller male leaned back, glaring fiercely even with the tears in his eyes. “You were dead, Dean.  _Dead_! You’ve been dead for hours! Tessa vanished and wouldn’t come back, nothing the angels tried worked, Crowley couldn’t do anything, and Lucifer and the others couldn’t even get _into_ Heaven to retrieve you-“

“Yeah, I saw that,” he croaked, throat feeling raw and parched, making him glance around hopefully for a canteen of some kind, but finding nothing.

“-What the hell, oh God,” Sam paled in horror, before turning to look over his shoulder, screaming. “Cas! Lucifer! Guys! He’s alive!  _Dean’s alive_!”

Feet pounded the pavement as the younger Winchester helped his brother to his feet, the hunter noticing for the first time that one of his hands was clenched into a fist around something solid. The key, his mind told him.

Sound jerked his attention away again. When he looked up, he faltered as he saw Castiel come to a skidding stop around a corner a few feet away from him, blue eyes wide with shock, then narrowing furiously as he stalked forward in such a way, Dean took an involuntary step back, suddenly questioning what had happened in his absence that he hadn’t seen.

Then Cas threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly, practically growling in his ear, “If you  _ever_  do that to me again…”

He didn’t get to finish the threat, because all of their allies were suddenly crowding around them then, the angels’ raking their gazes over Dean and demanding explanations, and Castiel reluctantly pulled away, just as Sam pulled an equally shocked, then darkly furious looking Lucifer aside, the hunter speaking in low tones, one hand lightly encircling the angel’s wrist while the blond glared off to the side, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

It reminded Dean of what Savvy had said once: about just because they hadn’t understood God’s actions at the time, didn’t mean they wouldn’t understand eventually. And while he understood that better now, he could also relate to the anger of being left in the dark as well, of feeling helpless and wronged. He glanced at Castiel. Of feeling abandoned.

Offering a smile, Dean turned and wrapped his arms around the angel sticking closely by his side, rubbing a thumb soothingly back and forth as Castiel clung back and shook in his arms, the filth covering both of them inconsequential at the moment.

Dean’s resurrection and their victory in battle was undermined by the losses they had suffered, and the number of dead they still had to contend with, as only Dean was brought back to life.  Those who had fallen where lined up in two rows, humans and demons alike, all lain in similar poses, hands folded over their chests and eyes closed. Savvy and Meg were carrying the last body over as Dean looked on, Cas by his side and holding his hand, in his other hand, Dean still held the key God had given him, his grip on it tightening almost painfully as their remaining allies gathered around.

With all the bodies of the fallen collected, Gabriel snapped his fingers, making a pyre platform appear, the bodies neatly arranged on it. Crowley and Lucifer both swept out a hand, flames swelling to life under the pyre and quickly engulfing it while the survivors looked on, grim-faced and silent, and right there in the middle of Detroit… they gave them all a hunter’s funeral

Silence settled heavily over them, weighing them down with the sense of loss, of so much willing sacrifice for the sake of themselves and the world. The heat of the flames was uncomfortable, but Dean didn’t back up or look away.

“This can’t happen anymore,” Dean heard himself say. Sam and Cas both glanced at him from either side. The blond hunter did look away then, down to the key in his hand. “I’m tired of funerals and losing allies.” While the two men on either side of him considered the key curiously, Dean looked back to the billowing flames, face set in a hard expression. “We have a new mission now, and it’s one I’m all for.”

 

 

 

One Year Later…

 

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Dean glanced over his shoulder to see Sam making his way down the line of cars in the bunker’s garage.

“Hey,” he greeted, snatching the bottle of water out of thin air his brother tossed him. “What’s up?”

The taller of the two shrugged, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Meg called. She’s bringing you her bike to work on and tune up. Said it took a few hits in a fight she recently got in.”

Nodding, Dean took a long sip of water, before inclining his head toward the stairs leading to the upper levels of the facility.

“How are things in there with the newest arrivals?”

The younger Winchester glanced back. “Fine. Krissy wanted to go ahead and sit in on some classes, so she’s with Naomi right now.” He looked back at the blond. “And I think we got Kevin settled and assured nothing bad is going to jump out and bite him just because he knows angels and demons exist now. He’s already appropriated a few books for his room to start looking over or translating.”

“How did Men of Letters even document some of these books if only certain types of prophets can read them?”

The other man shook his head. “I’m sure it was a safety measures to keep it from falling into demonic hands. Kevin is gonna sit in on Cas’ class today. We’re still working out his schedule for his other courses in both the supernatural and academic. Kid’s a genius and way ahead of the others, so I think he’ll be mostly studying on his own, with the instructors having to prepare a special curriculum just for him.” He pinched his lips, considering. “We get any more students, we’re gonna have to find more teachers.”

They had just over fifty students enrolled in their academy, ranging in age from fourteen to forty, and all being housed and taught in the multi-story building connected to the MOL base by a hidden and magically protected passageway none of the students knew about, though, naturally, the school had a normal entrance, as well.

As of current, most of their instructors were angels, save for Ash, who taught Chemistry and Computer Sciences, just as the majority of the others also taught more than one subject due to the limited number of teachers.

Scratching his jaw, Dean said, “Well, I think Lucifer is almost finished creating his syllabus, so we’ll be able to add that to the available courses, which will take some of the strain off Cas trying to combine and simultaneously teach two subjects in the same course load.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe the devil’s teaching a literature course.”

The works being taught were far from that of Shakespeare and Twain, though. The Winchester Gospels had, unfortunately, been the first books Lucifer included as part of his teachings, with the entire works of Frank L. Baum being added after the accidental release of both Dorothy and the Wicked Witch inside the bunker.

Dangerous and scary witch aside, Dean had thought both Sam and Charlie’s complete and utter _fangirling_ over the brunette woman was hysterical… until he’d seen how utterly and dangerously _jealous_ Lucifer was getting as he watched the same display, only seeming to relax once Sam happily dragged him off to start searching through the archives for records of other books based on hunters in both their reality and other universes, talking animatedly about all the possibilities for _learning_ such records of history would provide.

Dean’s brother was such an uncontrollable nerd.

Thinking of the archangel that would soon be teaching alongside his other siblings, Sam’s gaze grew distant, whole body seeming to relax as he shook his head. “I think he’s going to end up being a favorite teacher. He has this way about him when he’s teaching that is mesmerizing.” He inhaled and blew out a breath, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. “And that’s not even taking in to consideration hearing him read loud.” A shudder visibly passed through him. “He’s _really_ good at it.”

Snorting, Dean turned away. “If it can put that look on my face, I don’t  _want_  to hear him read. Hey, Benny,” he called out. The vampire working under one of the cars let out a sound of acknowledgement. “I’ll be upstairs a minute.”

 

The other man made another noise and the two Winchesters headed back up the stairs into corridors of the bunker, through a hall of bedrooms and offices, toward the library where Becky and Samandriel-or Alfie, since it was too confusing to have _two_ Sam’s in the bunker- both had stations set up, books and papers sprawled around them. Becky was busy researching for her first book to be published under her own name, Chuck had started a new book series _not_ involving the Winchesters, and Alfie worked with Sam to try and learn everything the Men of Letters had to offer. They were forever finding new rooms with files and archives and books to go through, stairwells that had been magically sealed off and bespelled so as to go unnoticed by human eyes, and lead down to even more levels within the base, to laboratories and a hallway with one long, massive window looking out into the depths of the nearby waterway, which apparently, housed several breeds of merpeople in a multitude of colorings.

 

Continuing through the halls, they passed Savvy, who had a bag slung over her back, heading back the way they’d come, with Harley by her side.

“Where are you off to?” Dean questioned, pivoting to watch her.

She faltered, turning back around to face him. “Charlie called. She and Dorothy need people to help with aid efforts after an attack in the Emerald City. The rebellion is mostly under control, but some of the witch’s followers are still causing problems, one last focused effort. It sounds pretty bad. I’ll be in Oz a few days.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the gilded mirror hanging on the wall. “Contact me by mirror if you need something.”

He nodded to her. “Be careful.”

Adjusting the straps of her bag, she nodded and patted her thigh. “Always. C’mon, Harley.”

He pointed toward the library. “You told Becky you were leaving right?”

Her brown eyes glanced toward the room, sighing resignedly. “Yeah. She’s not entirely happy with me.” Her eyes flicked back to the hunter’s. “She writes all the adventures, but never gets to experience them. She feels a bit left out.”

“Are the two of you okay?” Sam questioned worriedly.

She waved him off. “We’re fine. Great, actually. She just worries. She knows we’re doing the right thing though, and she agreed that they need all the help they can get. Next time, she just wants to come with on the adventure.” She turned away again. “Sarah called as well, has a urn she thinks houses a goddess and is bringing by for y’all to research. I left the message by the phones. Ellen called to check in, too. See you guys later.”

In the year since they’d saved the world, the hunter community had been completely reformed into something far more organized and efficient, even with the expansion of their efforts to help out in the only other realm they could easily travel back and forth between: Oz. They’d also had no more trouble from hunters apparently thinking the Winchesters were out to create their own kingdom, but being that they had so many connections in places both High and Low, the false rumors and slander against their names had been straightened out pretty quickly. That can happen when you have the Morning Star, the other archangels, and even the King of Hell on speed dial.

Even after a year, it was still odd for Dean to see the easy camaraderie and subtle affection that passed between Sam and Lucifer, even angels had had to learn prophecy was not always what they interpreted it to mean, save for the part about their being one human meant just for them.

Lucifer was still reserved and crept in like a shadow, never seeming to miss a single thing that took place in the bunker, but the dangerous tension in his body was gone, a smile curving the corner of his mouth more often. Sam was clearly happy, and despite his reservations, Dean couldn’t really argue with their relationship when he saw the effect they both had on the other one. It was still weird as hell to eat breakfast across the table from the angel, but he’d also gotten used to it. Granted, they were by no means the example of a normal or entirely _healthy_ relationship; they both seemed to get off on the knife’s edge they walked, but they worked.

Much like the newly renovated hunter community worked: that is, much to everyone’s surprise. The bunker was a hive of activity, a labyrinth of floors, levels, corridors, and rooms that had automatically made them the heart of the hunter network, with other hunters spread out across the country- like Bobby, Ellen, and Garth- as branches of the main.

Though he hated to admit it, they owed their current success- for lack of a better term- to the Ghostfacers, of all people. The infuriating and interfering team had learned of the government clearing out Detroit, of the terrorist attack on the city that had left the heart of it in shambles, and had hacked into every security camera the city had to offer, putting together a video of the battle for earth that went utterly viral in seconds.

Sales for the _Supernatural_ books had gone through the roof and calls had begun pouring into Bobby’s at all hours of the day, hunters across the world suddenly all being put in contact with each other, eventually their kids being sent to the Winchesters for education.

Granted, the government had turned around and taken down the video, claiming that it was a hoax, but the Major had warned them ahead of time that they would have to. Civilians were best left in the dark, lest they go looking for trouble. Taking it down didn’t get it out of circulation though, and those in the life knew better than to believe the news announcer claiming that the video was a doctored prank.

There was no shortage of work to be done now. Hunters were constantly calling in needing research information or potions and charms. Every week, Jody seemed to show up with a new kid to enroll in the Hunter Academy. Monsters still preyed on innocent people. And, despite Crowley’s alliance with the Winchesters, demons were allowed to come to earth and cause chaos as they pleased, but at their own risk. Crossroads deals were still booming, but when humans agreed to the deals willingly, knowing full well what they were getting into, the Winchesters couldn’t really interfere- except to maybe try and get the angels to start answering more prayers and handing out a few more miracles, getting to the desperate before the demons did.

As they reached the main intersection, the brothers parted ways, Sam moving to go return Sarah’s and Ellen’s calls, while Dean headed into the kitchen for more coffee, already making a mental lists of the repairs and tune-ups that needed to be done that day and prioritizing them.

He faltered in the door way of the kitchen, gaze locking on the man standing at the counter fixing his own coffee with one hand, and looking over something on the reader in his other.

Castiel was dressed in slim cut slacks with a dress shirt and waistcoat that accentuated the curves and lines of his body, making him look cultured and high class, and so totally polar opposite from Dean. He felt his heart clench tight, affection swelling at the sight of the former angel completely oblivious to his scrutiny, reading over God only knew what. It could be anything from a news article to fanfiction about the two of them. Dean had learned about that particular little secret of Cas’ completely by accident, and Heaven help him, if it didn’t make him love the angel more. How had Dean’s life ended up like this? So perfect most days he hardly believed it himself, was grateful  _every day_  for it.

Cas was stirring his coffee using one of those hazelnut wafer sticks when Dean came up behind him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. The former angel-turned-educator started in surprise, then relaxed, lips curling as he set aside his coffee and e-reader to pivot so they were facing each other. Dean’s mouth immediately sought his in a lingering kiss, earning a sound of surprise that quickly became a pleased hum, Cas’ hands running down the hunter’s sides, settling on his hips.

Dean broke the kiss, their lips just a breath apart as Cas chuckled lightly.

“Good morning to you, t-“

“We should get married,” Dean interjected. Cas’ eyes widened and Dean grinned, leaning in again to steal his breath away with desperate kisses before touching their foreheads together. “What do you say?”

Chuckling, Cas shook his head, voice filled with warmth as he spoke, “Do you really have to ask? There’s nothing more I _want_ than to always live by your side.”

Grin stretching even wider, Dean whispered, “Then let’s get married.”

 

End

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Defy Any And All Expectation [podfic version]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535981) by [Tenoko1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1)




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